Killing Time
Page 15
favor."
"Josh, you named the U. S. Marshal as one of those involved. I assume then from what I saw today, Vines is in the relocation and re-identity program under the auspices of the Marshal. Is that correct?"
"It is, but, Baye, I don't know his new name so I can't help you there. I had no idea he was in Dallas. That's new to me as you told me that first. I was only told that he survived and was relocated. It took a month or more until I found out that he squealed. And that info was found out through an overheard conversation in the men's locker room. Hey, I've got to get back. I hope this helped, but you knew as much as me. Get well Partner. Really, I do miss your smartass remarks." He laughed as he hung up. I was in no mood to laugh at anything. I was pleased that I had found the man who almost killed me, who left me with only one breast, and with a scar that resembles the Grand Canyon.
I took the one bag and went in the side door. Phil heard to door close and came running toward me. I couldn't believe my eyes. God, he looked good. Straight, clean, clear-eyed and for once, healthy. He picked me up and swung me around whispering, "I was becoming worried. You refused to let me pick you up, insisting on a rental when you know we have an extra car here. And then when you didn't show, I called the airline and found that it had arrived on time. Where have you been?"
"Phil, I should have called. I'm sorry, but I was tied up at baggage claim as my suitcases weren't on the plane. Well, anyway, they're looking for them on flights that left Phoenix and will call when they find them. Forget my bags, you look great, bro! What have you done?"
"Baye, I tried to convince you I'd changed when I was at the hospital after your shooting. But you wouldn't listen and ordered me to leave. I've been clean now for several months. I still go every week for counseling because I am dead-set on not relapsing again. I work every day, haven't missed a day yet, and my boss is very supportive of my rehab. Life is much better now, sis. I'm going to keep it that way."
Baye had the start of tears in her eye when she replied, "I'm on your side. We can share rehab together while I'm here. I have a month more before my next tests are scheduled. You can't begin to know the horror of being hit with an armor piercing bullet. The damage it did was massive and the doctors shook their head at how I managed to live. Maybe it was the will to see you as you are now. Clean and healthy again," I did laugh a little when he tickled my rib and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
After he left for work the next morning, I jumped in the car and drove back to Sammy's. I dumped the car a block away, sauntered to Mika's Deli that served the finest espresso in town. I chose it since it was on the corner across from Sammy's. I bought a cup of the daily Darkest blend and opened the book I had brought. I sat at a window table where I could observe the entrance to Sammy's. Javier came slowly down the street; smiling and waving at passerby's, jerked the door of Sammy's open and vanished inside. I patiently waited him out, sipping the strong coffee and reading between glances at those going in and coming out of Sammy's.
It took thirty minutes of fortitude before I saw him begin to repeat his act of yesterday. I bolted from the table, slammed the book back in my purse and I trailed him from across the street. When he turned into the complex, I held my badge out and stopped traffic as I illegally crossed in the middle of the block. I snaked along far behind him as he took a right at the end of the second block and when I arrived at that corner, he took another right and I could see him using a key to open the door of the first unit on that street. Once he was inside, I eased up slowly, memorized the number and started back to the car. On the trip to the main drag, I checked my options and the make-up of the route as I passed the two alley entrances and the first street in the complex as I journeyed to the city thoroughfare.
I returned home, went to the garage and rummaged through Dad's old tool box. I was looking for a particular tool he stored from the plant the family operated. We had been in the ice distribution business. When I said we, I meant it. As we grew up, we worked with dad in the business. I took orders, Phil made deliveries and helped Dad do the bagging and storagein the giant freezers that were kept full of ice at all times, summer and winter. Mom did the books. We supplied restaurants, convenience stores, grocery stores, pharmacies, schools, hospitals and even the railroad. Our business slowed as more and more sophisticated ice makers came to market and when Dad died, we voted to sell out to another distributor.
I took the tool to the kitchen, washed and polished it, making certain that it was shiny and clean. Our name, 'Fowler Ices' was delicately removed from the wooden handle until no trace was evident. After I had honed it the way I wanted it, I dropped it in my purse for later use. I piddled around my old room for the rest of the day. I managed to fill two trash bags of my now useless, to me, youthful collections of clothing, books, shoes, and memorabilia no longer of interest. I took them to the car where I would drop them at the Salvation Army collection center and give the receipt to Phil for his tax return.
I fixed dinner at five-twenty and when Phil stepped in the door, I told him we had to eat in a hurry as I had a call from the airport advising me that my suitcases would be on the flight from Houston at nine. I laughed and said, "You wouldn't want me running around naked like I did when I was three." He laughed and pointed at me, saying, "I remember the neighbors calling mom and telling them you were naked in the front yard sprinklers." We both had a good laugh at that memory. Phil gave me no additional resistance about dinner or any questions about my bags. He made no offer to accompany me, thank goodness. I received just an understanding nod before he confessed and by saying, "Sis, that works out well for me also. You see, I had plans as Bucky is coming over and we're going to the gym for the high school basketball finals this evening."
He promised to clean the kitchen, so taking him at his word; I drove back to the airport, ran through the parking lot with a stamped and timed ticket in my hand. At the exit, I told the attendant that I had dropped my sister off and had been late so I used the lot, but couldn't now find the ticket. She told me that the minimum without a ticket was five dollars. I gave her a five and drove directly back to Mika's Deli with my book. Around seven-twenty, Vines entered Sammy's for his dinner meal. Dinner took a little longer, but I was in no rush tonight. I had until nine or shortly thereafter to accomplish my goal. When he left at eight-ten, dusk was becoming much heavier, street lights were flickering on, and the flow of traffic was nil at that hour. I followed closer this time knowing the darkness would cover me. When he turned left, I sped up and caught up to him, close enough to precisely time my approach. When he crossed the first complex street, I yelled at him, "Mr. Vines! Could I have a word with you? It won't take a moment and you can continue walking as we talk."
He stopped, turned, scrutinized me, saw I was a woman and assumed I was not a threat. He answered, "Certainly, miss. Come on over." I crossed the street, he examined me and said, "You're not one of my rehab members are you? I think I would recognize such a pretty face," and he snorted a small irritating laugh. I forced a tight grin in response.
"No sir, I'm not. I have another question for you though." We were slowly approaching the first alley way and I was surveying the entrance, making certain that I hadn't missed a light when I checked it earlier that morning. I hadn't, it was dark and quiet. No one else was on the street, many of the houses still dark.
Just before we stepped from the curb to cross the alley, I took the shiny ice pick from my purse and took his arm. When we stepped to the pavement of the alley, I put the ice pick at his neck and said, "Turn left into the alley, Javier. We'll have our talk in there.' He jerked hard when he heard his real name. He stuttered and said, "What do you want from me? I've reformed. I'm active in the church doing counseling. I told the authorities everything I knew. Who are you anyway?" I pushed him against the fence of the second unit, between the recycle bin and trash barrel. I moved the ice pick to a spot just over his heart. I angrily shot in his face, "I'm the woman with one breast, a scar you could get lost in, one who can never wear a low cu
t dress again and an enemy worse than your old cartel bosses could ever be to you."
His face spread in panic and he spouted, "Oh, my God! You're Officer Fowler that I shot in Phoenix. I'm so sorry that happened, Fowler. I said I've reformed and I have. I go to church every Sunday and pray for you. I counsel drug addicted citizens. In fact, I'm the one who got Phil straight again. Please, believe me. I've atoned for my sins. I'm truly a new person."
This was a new wrinkle and I softly shouted, "You have worked with Phil, my brother?"
"Yes, Baye, I compelled the Marshal's to relocate me here just so that I could work with Phil. I was so upset over what I did to you that I checked you and your family and found that he needed help. I'm the one who gave it to him."
"Shit, Javier, that's great! I want to thank you for what you've done for Phil. He looks fantastic! I too am sorry about all that happened between us in Phoenix, but not too sorry not to finish the job right here and now."
I swiftly pushed the ice pick into his heart until it was stopped by the handle. I avoided looking at his face. I leaned him against the fence and assisted with his slow