by David Putnam
Then reality set in. The warrant service from hours before on Willowbrook played on the big screen of my mind, the sudden violence, the smell of gun smoke, the way it all ended so abruptly with Ned on the floor, his eyes looking off into the vastness of the big nowhere.
In the dark, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat with my head in my hands. Chelsea. I needed to see Chelsea, to hold her in my arms and never let her go. I needed to call her. I stood on wobbly legs. That’s when I realized the room belonged to me. A place where I’d spent my childhood. A place where I’d returned after I’d become a father. I shook myself trying to scare off the last remnants of bone-racking fatigue. I opened the door to more darkness and a flickering light at the end of the hall. Everyone had cleared out. I walked into the living room. Dad sat on the couch watching television with Olivia asleep on his lap. He didn’t say anything and just followed me with his eyes. I went to the front door and opened it to emptiness. I turned to look at him. I asked, “What’s going on? The yard, it’s all cleaned up. The drumfire is out. The drum is gone. What happened?”
“Son, it’s eight thirty at night. You slept the whole day through. You really needed it. You were dead on your feet.”
I sat down on the couch next to him trying to reconcile this stunning information. That brief interlude of slumber had only felt like a twenty-minute nap, and when I woke I’d found I’d entered the twilight zone.
He gently transferred Olivia to me. Wait, I wanted to say, I need to call Chelsea.
“Here, take her,” he said. “I’ll fix you some supper. You have to be hungry.” Olivia didn’t stir.
The warmth of my daughter, the soft, gentle movement each time she took a breath, her innocent expression, all helped fight off the ugliness of the previous day, kept it at bay. It also served to distract me from Chelsea.
Olivia was growing bigger by the day, by the minute. I wanted to slow her childhood, enjoy her more, but I could never seem to find the time. Time was slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I tried to grasp it.
Dad tinkered in the kitchen. “Folks came by and left a ton of food. The fridge is full. How about some fried chicken and a warmed-up waffle?”
“I’m really not hungry, Dad. Thanks, though.”
He stuck his head from around the kitchen. “You’re going to eat something if I have to hold you down.”
I nodded. He went back to tinkering. He said, “Chelsea came by, stayed most of the day waiting for you to wake up. She brought a couple of pizzas. You want pizza instead?”
“She did? She waited for me to wake up?” Just the thought of her sitting on the same couch, waiting, let a warmth ease through me.
“That’s what I just said. You got wax in your ears? Now which one, pizza or—”
“No, chicken’s fine.” I relaxed some. My mind started to catch up, allowing in the responsibility I’d been shirking. “Did Wicks call? Did they find Gadd?”
Dad stuck his head out of the kitchen again. “He called twice, and I’m sorry, Son, he wanted me to wake you, and I refused. You can go ahead and be mad at me, but you were bad off last night and—”
I waved my free hand. “It’s okay. What did he say about Gadd?”
Dad shrugged. “Didn’t ask him and he didn’t offer.” He disappeared again, then came the sound of the oven door opening and closing. “Be ready in twenty minutes.”
I eased Olivia down onto the couch, moved her hair out of her face, and kissed her forehead. I went to the phone and paged Chelsea, then dialed Wicks’ direct number to his desk. He picked up on the first ring. Not a good sign. If there had been even a whiff of Gadd out on the street, Wicks would’ve been right there following the trail, looking to make a counter entry on the balance sheet, a little blood and bone.
I said, “Talk to me.”
“He’s in the wind, Bruno. Bad news. Word is he took off. Headed down to Mexico until things cool off.”
Instinct told me Mexico was a woof cookie tossed simply to keep me out of it.
“Where in Mexico?”
He paused a second too long. “We’re working on that.”
“Bullshit. I’m coming down there.” I hung up.
Dad came over and stood close. “I know I can’t stop you from doing this, but you’re going to eat something first or you’re going to have to fight me to get out that door.”
I moved around him, angry that after all that had happened, Wicks would lie to me. I opened the refrigerator. Casseroles and fast food packed the shelves. The sight of it all caused my stomach to growl and agree with Dad about eating first. I didn’t want to wait twenty minutes for the chicken. I pulled out a pizza box, took it over to the table, and sat down. Pineapple and ham, really? Fruit didn’t belong on a pizza. What was Chelsea thinking? I pulled out two slices, knocked off the little yellow wedges of sweet fruit, and started to eat, my mouth wet with anticipation. After two bites I scarfed down the rest, a lot hungrier than I thought.
Dad sat at the table and watched and waited while I finished the two slices. “I know you don’t need any more problems.”
I stopped chewing on the second slice.
He said, “Ah, maybe we should talk about it later.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m good, tell me now.”
“Olivia was upset all day; she missed her friend Beth. They’re like sisters now, you know.”
I let the half-eaten slices of pizza drop back onto the box. I’d forgotten all about Beth. I wiped my hands on a napkin. “I promised Ned I’d take care of Beth.”
“I think you did your part last night. Now Hannah knows what kind of man she’s been involved with. Before he left last night, your boss said that today he’d be sure a warrant was issued for JB.”
I smiled and immediately regretted it, bad Karma. I picked up the pizza again and started to eat. Now I didn’t need to worry too much about Beth until after I dealt with Gadd. Later, I’d have a talk with the social worker assigned to the case, make sure CPS kept me advised so I could continue to keep tabs on her. Make sure Beth knew I was a part of her life. Maybe start a college fund for her.
“When do you think the funeral will be?” Dad asked.
With the heavy emotions lurking just below the surface, the overwhelming grief needed the least excuse to return and smother everything else. The room dimmed a bit, nothing more than an illusion caught up in an emotionally overheated mind. The abrupt finality of what had happened dropped yesterday’s event deep into the horror category and a recurring nightmare not easily diminished. By sleeping the day away, I’d missed all the daylight needed to help clear away some of the depression. Now it seemed as if the world would remain in a perpetual state of darkness.
I picked up another two slices, knocked off the pineapple, took a large bite, and spoke around the food. “It’s a homicide. They … they won’t release Ned for at least a week, probably even two.” I dropped the pizza for the last time and shoved the box away, my appetite gone for good over the thought of some unfeeling doctor taking a high-speed saw to my friend. I fought back tears and had to swallow hard several times.
A knock sounded at the door.
I got up, thankful for the distraction. I opened the door and found Chelsea, her eyes brimming with tears. She stepped in and hugged me, her head buried in my chest. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Bruno.” I let my chin rest on her hair and took in her scent. I loved her so and at that moment needed her more than anything else.
Except Olivia.
I didn’t know what to say and could only hug her back. Finally, she looked up and her voice came out husky as she asked, “What are you going to do on your two weeks off? I hope you want some company. I already got it cleared with my boss. I was thinking we could go to the Grand Cayman Islands, huh? What do you say, some fun in the sun in the Caribbean? We don’t ever have to come back. Just you and me, white sand beaches and piña coladas forever.”
“I’m not taking two weeks off.”
>
She grabbed ahold of my wrists and took a step back. “What?” She stepped out of my hug. Her next words came out with an edge. “Bruno, you are not going after Gadd.”
I didn’t answer.
“Bruno?”
I said nothing.
She stepped around me and spoke to Dad. “Xander, you’re not going to let him go after Gadd, are you?”
“I don’t think there’s anyone in this world who could stop him. We’re talking about Ned here, Chelsea.”
“No, Bruno. Nothing good will come of it. You’ll just get yourself in trouble. Think about Olivia. Come on, Bruno, this isn’t the smart move.”
I shook my head. “How many kids do you think Gadd has corrupted? How many good people has he killed?” I stopped short of saying that the FBI could’ve shown some balls and taken Gadd off the board a long time ago had they not wanted to keep their pristine reputation untarnished. And then none of this would have happened. “Do you think I want to bring my daughter up in a world with a killer like Gadd walking around? Even on the dodge, he’ll be hurting people, because that’s what he does.”
“Don’t.” She pointed a finger at me. “You’re a good street cop, I’ll give you that, but don’t think for a minute we won’t get him without your help. Right now, every cop and federal agent in the state is looking for him. He’ll fall in a matter of hours, you just wait and see.”
“Like you did with the Bogart Bandit and Handsome Bandit? Took your agency two years.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m not going to wait for anything or anyone. In fact, I’ve waited too long.”
“Fine, then I’m going with you.” She stepped around me. “I’ve got to use your phone to tell the task force you and I are coming up on this.”
“Chels, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She stopped. “What, using your phone? Why?” Her confused expression shifted, and she came back and put a finger in my face. “No. No, you are not going without me.”
I said nothing.
She thought about it some more and finally caught on to my meaning. “Don’t do this, Bruno, don’t take this curbside.”
If there had ever been a case for curbside justice, this was it. Ned wouldn’t get fair representation in our judicial system, and that left it to me. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’d never done it before, but I intended to try.
I lowered my voice. “Four years ago, Gadd killed an entire family. Put a mother and her two sons down on their knees and shot them in the back of the head.”
Dad, still sitting at the kitchen table, said, “Oh, dear Lord, you’re talking about the Humphreys, aren’t you, down in Compton?”
CHAPTER FIFTY
I WASN’T SURPRISED Dad knew about the triple murder of the Humphrey family, especially after he’d been the one to break the Bogart Bandit case. Ned had been right when he said it took a mailman to know what was happening on the street.
“What do you know about it, Dad?”
He shrugged. “What everyone knows, I guess.”
Chelsea stepped closer to Dad. “What are you two talking about?”
Dad shrugged. “A while back, a woman—a mother and her two sons—were shot to death not far from here down in Compton.” He turned to me. “I heard the woman had a tryst with a man and she ended up pregnant. She threatened to take him to court for child support, and he snuck over late one night. He wanted to keep her quiet. She’d never told anyone the man’s name. They never caught him.”
“And he killed the woman and her two boys to keep from paying child support?” Chelsea asked, stunned.
Dad shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”
I didn’t bring up the part about the woman being Scab’s sister, another great reason why Gadd told the woman never to tell anyone his name.
Chelsea rounded on me. “And just how do you know it’s Leroy Gadd who did this?”
“I was there that night with Ned. We chased Willis Simpkins on foot. We got separated. While I was looking for Ned and Simpkins, I came across Gadd in the alley leaving the back of the house where the three victims were later found. I didn’t know they were dead inside, not at the time.” I turned to Dad. “Or that the woman had been pregnant. Compton PD never told me that part. They gave me the report on the Darkman case but withheld the autopsy. I didn’t know Gadd’s name at the time and just recently figured it out.”
“And how did you do that?” Chelsea asked.
“It’s in the surveillance notes. While we followed Gadd on the bank robbery, I sat next to him in a bar. If it’s true that she was pregnant, that makes it a quadruple murder that he’ll never answer for.” I looked at Chelsea. “And we’ll never make him on killing Ned either, even though he’s responsible, the same as if he pulled the trigger. He wound up those kids like little toy soldiers and sent them out to do the dirty.”
She pointed a finger at me. “I’m still going with you, and when we take him, he gets a chance to surrender. You understand, Bruno? That’s the way it’s going to be.”
I stared her down and said nothing.
“Bruno?”
The phone rang and saved me from having to tell her the truth about my blood-filled intent that no one could talk me out of—not even Chelsea.
I took the receiver off the wall. “Hello?”
I hoped it was Wicks so he could tell me they’d just come up on Gadd with a possible location and for me to saddle up. Instead, I got Ollie Bell.
“Asshole.”
I recognized her with that one word. “Ollie, I’m sorry about what happened.” But not as much as I should’ve been; her nephew D’Arcy had been the one to pull the trigger on Ned.
Her voice came over the phone lower, almost a whisper. “Mister, you doon sound all dat sorry. Meet me right now. Meet at Lucy’s in ten minutes. Come alone.” She hung up.
I put the receiver on the hook. She wanted to meet so she could shove the ice pick between my ribs and scramble my heart. I couldn’t help thinking maybe I deserved it.
Chelsea asked, “Who’s Ollie?”
“An informant. She wants to talk.”
“Does she know where to find Gadd?”
“No. It’s about something else.”
“Then she can wait.”
“No.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“Fine, but we’re taking two cars. She said come alone.”
“Fine, I’ll run cover then. Where we going?”
“Lucy’s. It’s a—”
“I know Lucy’s. Bruno, don’t you dare try and lose me.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
“Be careful, Son.”
“I will, Dad.” I hugged him. “I’ll be home soon.”
* * *
I made one pass on Long Beach Boulevard and clocked Ollie’s turquoise Cadillac Eldorado parked at the curb right in front of Lucy’s. The sodium vapor streetlights changed all the colors and gave them a yellowish tint. The usual foot traffic patrolled the streets, the disenfranchised, the coke freaks and hookers, all the good folks now all in for the night behind locked doors. I turned around and came back and parked behind the Caddy. Chelsea pulled over on Century and Barlow where she’d be able to see most of the restaurant, the important part, the windows of the patio area. Chelsea turned off her headlights. I got out and looked down the street at her maroon Crown Victoria. Her window came down, and she let her arm hang out, a signal that she had my back.
Ollie Bell sat inside the enclosed patio on one of the picnic table benches that swayed a little under the weight. She didn’t smile. I never knew Ollie when she didn’t smile, and that night she looked like someone else entirely, someone I didn’t know. Anger didn’t suit her.
She wore a shiny purple mumu-like dress—more of a gown really, with gold fringe and a beautiful and intricate multicolored dragon embroidered on the back. It wasn’t in her to roll incognito. She took up half the picnic bench. I came over and sat next to her
in easy range of the pick if she wanted to use it.
We sat there, not moving.
She spoke first. “I trusted you.”
“And Ned was my best friend.”
Her whole body started to quiver as she silently cried. “My sister, she won’t even talk to me. I tolt her I’d take care of dis. She believed me. I believed in you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t get it, cowboy, not for somthin’ like dis. I took that young’un to Dinneeland twice when he was no more ’n a tot. Bought him dat cute little hat with the ears and some blue cotton candy. The way he smiled dat day, damn. Now he gone. In prison for life.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do. I promise you I do. And I wish every conscious second I could go back to the time just before we took down that door. I’d change things. I swear I would.”
She shook her big head. “No. No, sir. You’re just like all the rest of dem asshole cops. I tought you were different. You’re not.”
I reached over and put my hand on her arm. She didn’t flinch. The anger in her eyes liked to burn right through me. I didn’t look away. Slowly, she leaned over as her eyes softened. She put her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her. She put her big arm around me and pulled me in tight. We sat that way until a Hispanic girl dressed in Lucy’s garb came out to the patio with an orange plastic tray holding three orders of taquitos along with two paper trays piled high with guacamole and a supersized cup of Coca Cola.
She let go of me and went at the taquitos as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She spoke around the food. “You hungry? Go ahead and order yourself some. Dis is all mine, though.” She smiled, her face still wet with tears. Comfort food obviously took the edge off her grief.
“No, that’s okay.”
She stopped. “What? I’m not good enough to eat wit’?”
“You know that’s not true. I just had some pizza with pineapple.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Pineapple doon belong on no pizza. Meat and cheese, dat’s all.”
