Left for Alive

by Tom Hogan

  His face tightened. “When she started moving the flame towards my face, I lost it. I bucked my hips and pushed up with my shoulders. She lifts off me and I unhook my left hand from the post. I slap at the lighter to move it away just as she leans forward. Caught her right in the cheek. Not a slug—open hand, I swear it—but I was trying to knock that lighter away, so there was some steam behind it.”

  He paused. “We were both off-balance, like I said. She’s going sideways and I’m trying to sit up. She slips off the bed and hits her head on the table on her way down.”

  “Was she knocked out?”

  “Not even close. She’s shouting all the way down. When she hits the table, she cuts her chin—and that’s when the screaming starts.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I got my other hand loose. Then when I saw the blood, I tried to stop the bleeding with one of those scarves. I don’t know if it was me or the scarf, but that just seemed to make her crazier. I knew the screaming meant we’d have company, so I just left her there and sat outside in the corridor. When some of the guys from the team came running, I told them to call the police.”

  The air was thick with various smells—the ashtray, sweat, odors from the night before. Paul looked up at Josh. “Can I go home soon?” he asked in a suddenly small voice.

  Josh stopped just outside the door and jotted down some notes on a piece of paper, then headed down to the squad room, where Donna was sitting with Cavanaugh.

  “William had me paged at the airport. I just finished bail. It’s minimal. We could have gotten O.R., if it was that important. But this is quicker.”

  Josh looked at Cavanaugh. “Charge or charges?”

  “Aggravated assault. For now. It could get worse.”

  “How much worse?”

  “If she sticks to her story, false imprisonment. Rape, even, though that’s a reach.”

  “What about the blood tests?”

  Cavanaugh shook her head. “She was gone by the time I called. They didn’t do a rape kit, since she said the sex was initially consensual. But they took a lot of photos and stitched up her chin.”

  “Paul says she did poppers but I guess that’s going to be a he-said, she-said thing. Listen, before we leave, get some photos of his wrists. He’ll tell you what it’s about.”

  “Is he talking now?” When Josh nodded, Cavanaugh nodded to Donna. “Then let’s go.” The two of them stood up.

  CHAPTER 29

  The hopes expressed around the dinner table that night—that the woman would recant or the cops would kick the case—were dashed early the next morning when Cavanaugh called. The assault charge would not only remain in effect but there might be additional charges.

  Donna poured a cup of coffee, roused Josh from his cabin and the two of them went to Paul’s trailer. Buoyed by a good night’s sleep and the talk of the night before, he wasn’t ready for the expressions that met him. He nodded his thanks at the coffee and stepped aside, motioning them in. He lit a cigarette from the pack that he had borrowed from Carol, the smoke combining with the steam from the coffee to partially obscure his face.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s not good. Cavanaugh says she’s determined to press charges. Whether this is a money grab or whether she has a different version of what happened that night, he couldn’t say. I’m not worried about her testimony—she’s changed her version enough that I’m sure I can shake her on the stand, should it come to that. But Cavanaugh says the photos aren’t pretty and they’re shooting more today. He was pretty direct—said that since she’s a redhead everything shows up more distinctly against the skin. Stitches, bruises, the lot. So we’re looking at an uphill battle here.”

  “All I did was protect myself. Doesn’t that count for anything? I can already hear in your voice that you’re considering settling. What about the fact that I’m innocent?”

  She leaned forward until the back legs of her chair lifted off the floor. “Listen to me, Paul. As your friend, I believe you didn’t do it. But as your attorney my job isn’t to believe you, it’s to get you the best possible solution to a bad situation. And that starts with me holding your story upside down and shaking it hard, seeing what falls out. To give you a taste of what’s ahead. And I don’t need you getting angry at me for doing my job. Are we clear?”

  He nodded. “Sorry. What’s the next step?”

  “We give it another twenty-four hours, see what develops. We’ll know soon if she’s looking for money, also what other possible charges there are. In the meantime, you should at least give some thought to what sort of settlement you could live with.”

  “No settlement. That’s an admission of guilt. The press’ll crucify me. After everything that’s gone on in the past few weeks—the press and air time—they’ll feel like they’ve been conned, and they’ll come after me big-time.”

  Josh spoke for the first time. “If that’s your biggest concern—your career and the press—then remember that if this goes to court you’ll be in the spotlight. People and the tabloids would just be the start.”

  “So you’re saying settle? For something I didn’t do?”

  “I’m saying determine what your priorities are. If it’s proving your innocence, take it to court. If it’s your career, let Donna at least see what she can work out.”

  Donna spent the rest of the day in the law library down in Kinsella, researching precedents. The next morning she met with Cavanaugh to review the evidence—especially the photos—and then with the woman and her attorney. Then she returned to Moetown and sat down with the two brothers.

  “Ten thousand bucks and she’ll forgo any other legal action—false imprisonment, sexual assault and the other variations on these two—and we take the charge from aggravated assault to simple battery. She forfeits any payment if she talks to the press. And she’s agreed—and Cavanaugh is fine with it—to a closed hearing with a judge. No jury trial.”

  Paul frowned. “I don’t get it. If she gets the money, why doesn’t she drop all the charges?”

  “Pride, to start. But without charges it looks like she’s trying to shake you down for ten grand. This way she’s on the record and she protects herself against a possible countersuit.”

  Paul looked at Josh. “What do you think?”

  “Cavanaugh says that this is as good as you’re going to get. He thinks, even with the photos and evidence, that Donna could beat it in court. But that’s in court. Which means the press.”

  “What are my risks of doing time, if it’s reduced to battery?”

  “Small, according to Cavanaugh, but not non-existent. The judges up here are proud of their independence. And their unpredictability. But Cavanaugh thinks either probation or community service.”

  “What would you do, if you were me?” he said to Josh.

  “I’m not you. We’ve got different priorities. But given what you’ve said, I’d take the deal and get this thing behind me as soon as possible.”

  “Donna?”

  “Same. It’s the cleanest, quickest way out.”

  As promised, the hearing was in chambers. The judge reviewed the police report with the arresting officer, lining up the room layout and photos against the far wall. Then the hospital report. And finally a few clarifying questions of Paul, who sat at a side table with Donna. In a move that surprised and encouraged Donna, he didn’t ask to see Paul’s accuser, who was waiting in another room down the hall.

  When the evidence was presented, the judge adjourned to his private chambers; an hour later he was back. “This isn’t an open and shut case. It rarely is when it takes place between two people in private and with some of the evidence subject to interpretation. At the same time, I’ve got a woman who had to go to the hospital.”

  He looked at Paul. “Understand two things here. First, I’m not a crusader looking to make a statement. I’ll
leave that to the politicians. But second, I’m not going to accept the outdated philosophy that says when a woman invites a man to her room, all bets are off. A woman can say yes and then change her mind and not forfeit any of her rights. ‘No’, no matter how softly it is said, no matter when it is uttered, still means no. And I think this woman said no to you. And what happened afterward is a result of your not taking that ‘no’ seriously.”

  He leaned forward. “For that reason I’m sentencing you to sixty days.” He paused. “I’m mindful of who you were, Mr. Clements and that you have certain business obligations. I’m also mindful of your brother’s contributions to this court on past occasions. So, despite the violent nature of this crime, time will be served at a minimal-level county facility. In recognition of your cooperation and remorse in this matter I am also allowing you to set the date to begin serving your sentence, so long as it commences within six months of today’s date.” He gaveled the session to a close.

  Paul sat across from Josh and Donna in the conference room adjacent to the judge’s chambers, his face the grey of no hope. The three had talked briefly about the sentence and Paul’s limited options and then had lapsed into silence.

  “You say I’ve got little chance on appeal, right?” Paul said in a gravel voice.

  “The sentence was within the judge’s right to impose,” Donna replied. “There are no grounds that I see to contest or overrule.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll start serving it now. Waiting around’ll just drive me crazy. Or give me time to do something stupid. So go get the bailiff.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Josh sat in the visitor room reading a magazine, waiting on Paul, who was late for their scheduled visit. Around him families convened, wives held their husbands’ faces in their hands and girlfriends sat in their boyfriends’ laps, doing everything short of a conjugal visit. Josh put aside the magazine and idly tapped the perforated metal tabletop. He got up and walked over to the large grated window and looked down at the exercise yard, empty now except for the clean-up crew. He looked at his watch again.

  The heavy door at the far end of the room opened. The guard ushered Paul in, then stepped back through the door and locked it from the other side. Paul, dressed in a dull green jumpsuit, looked around, then spotted Josh. His face, narrowed and paler in just the past seven days, built into a hesitant grin. He walked over and hugged Josh, holding him tightly before breaking the embrace.

  “I’m fine,” he said without being asked. “So far, at least.”

  Josh nodded and held him at arm’s length. “How’s the time?”

  “Doable. If there’s anyone running the show beside the guards, I haven’t seen it. I’ve got laundry duty.”

  “That’s the good thing about county time. Everyone’s lazy, starting with the guards. Any of the cons start trouble, they’re shipped to San Tomas in a heartbeat.” He gestured around the room. “Beats Phoenix, that’s for sure.”

  “A cell’s a cell,” Paul said sharply. “And the locks sound the same.” He looked away and his tone lost its edge. “Sorry. But please—don’t treat this as something I can do in my sleep. Every day in here feels like a month, especially when I know I’m here for something I didn’t do.”

  When Josh didn’t answer, Paul continued. “I’m not like you, Josh, so don’t measure me by your standards. You’ve got an edge that I don’t. And it’s nothing I can fake.”

  Josh considered his brother’s words. “You’re right,” he said finally. “You can’t fake it. But you can develop it, if you have to. I did.”

  Paul looked away. “Maybe. Maybe you were able to do it because you’re braver than me.” He looked back. “Or maybe it’s because you were doing time for something you did.”

  Paul was entitled to two visitors a week. After Josh took the first two visits, the others wanted a chance. But Paul kept asking Josh to return, to tell the others he wasn’t ready yet.

  “It’s just that some of them are hurt that you won’t let them visit,” Josh said.

  “Like who?”

  “William, for one. Yeah, I’m surprised, too. Carol keeps asking after you. And Harry wants to come down and play fish.”

  Paul looked around and gestured with his hands, taking the entire room in. “Every new visitor, I have to start over. How’m I doing? What’s the routine like here? And the eyes, checking me out to see how I’m holding up.” He shook his head. “At least you don’t try to cheer me up.”

  Josh nodded. “Every Saturday at San Tomas, I’d see the same thing. Except it wasn’t county time. These guys were in for a long stretch. And yet they’d be talking to their families—or their families’d be talking to them—as if their release was just around the corner.”

  Paul smiled. “That’s called ‘hope’, Josh. You know, it doesn’t hurt to lie now and again.” He looked out the window. “Remember when we first joined The Crusaders? Mom’d been dead for over a year and we’d washed out with Uncle Ray?”

  “You washed out. I could have stayed.”

  “See what I mean? You don’t need to point out the truth all the time. There’s a time to let a person live with their own version of the facts. Like The Crusaders: remember that Ronnie Gruber was running the gang and I knew that if you helped me, I could take the whole thing over, get us out of the foster system?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “You told me that Ronnie Gruber could beat the shit out of me.”

  “He could have.”

  “That’s not the point. That wasn’t what I needed to hear at that moment.”

  “I didn’t want to see you hurt.” He looked down at the table. “Can we talk about something other than Baltimore?”

  “Fine. Bring me up to speed on the doings up at Moetown.”

  “Donna’s got a speech in LA next week, so she, Pete and Harry are camping their way down the coast. Harry’s bouncing off the walls. He’s already packed.”

  “Lucky won anything this week?”

  “No, he’s in a slump. Been five weeks now. He’s wondering if he’s lost his touch.”

  “Is William still seeing that woman, the one who used to be his patient?”

  “Client. He calls them clients. I think so. He’s gone a lot, but we don’t pry. Put it this way: she hasn’t been up to Moetown yet.”

  “Speaking of women, do you hear anything from Alexis?”

  “She sent Harry a picture book on dinosaurs from the museum there. Also a letter to us all, mostly a bunch of thank-you’s.”

  “I liked her. You?”

  “She’s okay.”

  “Such praise. She’d be blushing if she were here.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you interested in her?”

  “Why would you ask me something like that? You of all people.”

  A dead silence sat between them Neither man looked at the other. “Look, Josh. This isn’t the time or place, but we need to talk about Baltimore when I get out. You were seventeen years old. Seventeen. And you had cause.” He reached over a hand, then stopped. “It was one incident. You don’t punish yourself for a lifetime for one goddam incident.”

  “Are you interested in Alexis?” Josh said, as if he hadn’t been listening.

  “Would you have a problem if I were?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Okay, then the answer is yes. She’s not the type of woman I come across in my world. She’s comfortable with who she is. That’s attractive.” He shrugged. “If I had business in Chicago—and I might—I’d definitely look her up. And if she comes back out here, sure.” He looked more closely at his brother. “Would you have a problem with that?”

  Josh cocked his head and returned his gaze. “Why would I?”

  Josh changed the topic. “Your agent called. I told him you were away on a trip, but he said you’d called him and told him where you were.”

 
“I wasn’t going to tell him at first, but he’s pretty trustworthy, as Hollywood goes. And if rumors start, I need him to step on them before they grow.”

  “Well, he says to tell you he’s getting calls asking about your availability. And a reporter is starting to ask around about your whereabouts. No story yet, but there’s interest.”

  “I’ll give him a call. Tell him to stall for a couple more weeks, then we can start scheduling things a bit out there, right after the sixty days end.”

  Josh looked at the clock. “Anything else going on?”

  “Not so far. Like you said, everyone’s just trying to do their time, guards and inmates. I should be fine.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Josh’s next visit came two days earlier than scheduled. He received a call from one of the guards, who told him he might want to get down there. Immediately. Paul had promised him twenty bucks for ten minutes with his brother, that Josh would bring the money with him.

  An hour later, the guard let Josh in one of the side doors. As they made their way to the visitors’ room, he told Josh that Paul had been asking for him since their conversation that morning—had he come yet, were there any messages. He told Josh to wait there, that it might take a few minutes, given that it wasn’t Visitors’ Day.

  Josh sat at the table for the first five minutes, then got up and walked around the room. He stopped in front of the green-grey grill window and looked down at the exercise yard. It was a smaller version of the yards he’d known in San Tomas, Alameda and Baltimore. The blacks clustered around the weights, their hard, sweaty bodies throwing back the sun. The Latinos were at the other end, seated on the bleachers or playing one-wall. The whites were of two camps: the first was a tightly-knit group sitting together in the other bleachers, the second no group at all, singletons and couples staying as far away from the others as possible.

  As he watched, the far corner of the yard came alive. Two men standing over a patch of grass strewn with playing cards and packs of cigarettes were arguing, gesturing at the ground. The taller man pushed the other, pointing more furiously at the cards. The other man’s neck arched back, then snapped forward. Even at that distance, Josh could see the gob of spit sail through the air and land on the chest of the pointing man.