Dead Enemies

by K. E. Garvey

  Did he hear him right? She? He couldn’t think of a single woman that would want to see him let alone know where to find him. Not even she would know where he was. He dropped his gear on his work table and hurried to catch up with Vern.

  “Did she give you a name?” he asked as they walked.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Or was your head so far up Bossman Chuck’s ass you didn’t hear her? He thought as they pushed through the doors leading to the lobby.

  A woman of average height and mousy brown hair stood with her back to them and reading a well-worn newspaper.

  “Ma’am…” Vern waited until she turned to face him. “If you could make it quick, I’d appreciate it. We’ve fallen behind this week.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  She waited until Vern was gone before she spoke again. “Mr. Grissom, my name is Lenore. I’m Rodney’s sister.”

  His head snapped back before he could gather himself. “Oh, I… I’ve heard a lot about you, but this is certainly a surprise.” He extended his right hand, pulled back to wipe it on the front of his jeans, and then offered it again.

  She accepted and gave him a smile that barely made it past her lips. “I’d like to talk to you about my brother.”

  He nodded his head in agreement, although he couldn’t imagine why she’d want to talk to him about Rodney.

  “I’ve been by the house a few times in the last week or two, and… quite frankly, I’m concerned for him. He refuses to get a job, and keeps telling me about ailments I firmly believe he makes up the minute he sees my truck pull into the driveway. As far as I know, he doesn’t leave the house for much of anything really. The house needs repair, and I suppose that’s partly my fault. I stopped coming around when he was in prison; I found it too depressing. But when he got out I thought he’d want to make it his home, but instead, he’s turned it into a landfill. Inside and out, there’s enough trash lying around to choke a garbage truck. And now, there are things missing.”

  “Missing? How would you tell?” Warren looked to his boots, and then back to Lenore. “I’m sorry. You’ve been so good to let me stay there until I can pull my life together. I was out of line.”

  She acted as though she hadn’t heard what he said, and continued. “It seems to be mostly tools that have gone missing, but it’s other stuff, too. The reason I came to see you was to ask if you’d seen anything. I figure he’s either selling them or allowing someone to steal them right out from under his nose. It’s not that the stuff was worth a lot, but it’s all he has. He doesn’t seem to realize that at some point he’s going to have to get a job…” She looked away. “…or starve.”

  He tried to look concerned even though he didn’t give a rat’s ass whether Rodney starved. “I hear what you’re saying. He doesn’t seem to care much about anything except for TV, beer, and junk food.” He shook his head, and added, “The shit he puts in his body would kill most people for sure.”

  “I was hoping you could talk to him for me. I know that’s a lot to ask as he’s not much for listening, but I would appreciate it. I’m getting married soon and we’re planning to move to Virginia.” She cast her eyes to the floor. “Taking Rodney along isn’t an option, and I fear what will become of him if left to himself. I’m sure you’ll want to move on one day as well.”

  “That is my plan.”

  She pulled sleep from her eye with an index finger. “I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t tell him of the moving part of my plans. I’d like to find a way to lessen the blow before I tell him.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you, oh, and please be gentle with him. He’s always had a learning disability and kid gloves seem to work best even though that way is more frustrating for those who have to wear them.”

  He said, “I’ll do my best,” as she edged toward the door.

  “Thank you, Mr. Grissom. We’ll talk soon.”

  He watched her walk away until the door closed behind her. She shared Rodney’s lack of hygiene and bulbous nose, but it was obvious she was the sibling with the brain. She might not know what had become of the missing items although it probably wouldn’t be long before she figured it out, but she was astute enough to notice the stuff missing and in that acre of crap, that was impressive.

  As he headed back to work, he noticed the newspaper she had dropped on a makeshift table between two chairs. He bent to see the date. Today. He looked toward the door as he lifted the paper off the table and began scanning the headlines while paging through it.

  And there it was on page four, near the bottom.

  ...the victim…Amy Bloo…surgery to repair her left lung…

  Using his index finger to guide him along, he continued reading.

  ...and several items were retrieved from the basement and first floor of Bromberger’s Casket Company, which closed its doors almost twenty years ago. Police have not disclosed what items they found, but are saying that together with the leads they’ve obtained, they are confident that they’ll have a suspect in custody in the upcoming days.

  A hospital spokesperson has said the victim was in good spirits and anticipating her continued progress… should be released by the end of the week. The victim’s sister, Sali Bloo, along with local law enforcement, urge anyone with information to come forward even if anonymously.

  Warren dropped the paper to the table. He placed a hand on each side of his head and ran them through his hair until his fingers interlocked at the back of his head. How did this happen? He had been berating himself for missing vital organs when he had actually missed the intended target altogether. The victim’s sister, Sali Bloo…

  His breathing became labored as the realization of what he’d done sunk in. He choked out one word. “Kitten.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sali - 2018

  Although she had been excited when Amy’s doctor said she could come home with conditions, now that they were at her apartment Sali worried that if Amy should have a setback she wouldn’t know how to handle the situation. What was she able to do on her own, and what would require a call for an ambulance? Somehow, she had imagined Amy propped up in bed while she made tea, watched television, and fixed her hair for something to do. She hadn’t given any thought to the medical end of their situation.

  When she entered the bedroom, Amy was smoothing out the bedspread on each side of her lap. She looked happy to be home. Pushing her own worries aside, she said, “I see improvement just since we got here. You look contented.”

  “I think returning home is the imaginary line between regaining consciousness and not knowing what comes next, and realizing everything is going to be OK.”

  Sali set the day’s mail on the bedside table. “Detective Johnston called while the doctor was in with you. He’d like to come by later today.”

  Amy studied her for a moment. “I guess that’s OK, but unless he has new information I don’t see the point.”

  Sali opened the curtains. “He might, he didn’t say. He might think now that you’re home, you’re thinking more clearly and might remember something. Everything happened so fast that day.” She placed her hands on her hips as she stood at the foot of the bed. “Can I get you anything? A drink maybe?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a short nap before he gets here. What time is he coming?”

  She looked at her watch. “About two hours.”

  “Perfect. Do you mind?” Amy slid further into the bed.

  “Of course not. I have a few calls to make anyway. See you in a bit.” She closed the door until it clicked when she left the room. She had lied about having calls to make so Amy wouldn’t feel guilty about napping on her, but aside from another call to Aunt Katherine, she had nothing to do with her time. Several of her fellow teachers had been great about divvying her work up and from what she’d been told, the sub they had brought in to take over her class until she could come back was doing a great job at keeping the kids on the track she had had them on before the shooting. Wit
h her work life running like a well-oiled engine, she had little to think about other than Amy.

  She tucked a leg underneath her as she lowered into an overstuffed chair in the apartment’s small, but cozy, living room. She looked around at the artwork on the walls and admired her sister’s talent. Her eye for color and light drew a person into her work. After five rings her aunt’s machine picked up. The answering machine stopped receiving new messages several days ago, telling Sali that her aunt must be away and not checking them. She found it hard to believe she wouldn’t have let the girls know she was leaving, but the more she thought about it, the less it disturbed her. Their Aunt Katherine had taken their mother’s death hard, and seemed to be pulling away bit by bit ever since. At first, it seemed like since they were grown it was their lives that had become too busy for her. Later though, Sali realized that her aunt had stopped making weekly phone calls, extending random invitations to dinner, and exchanging Christmas gifts. Only now did she question whether one or both of them had somehow upset her. As soon as she knew Amy was on the mend and didn’t need her to stay by her side, she would drive to Mendenhall for a visit, and maybe a few answers.

  The soft rap on the door became louder as she woke. She hadn’t realized she had dozed off, and quickly checked herself and rubbed the sleep from her eyes on the way to answer the third set of knocks. She opened the door to find Detective Johnston standing shoulder to shoulder with a petite woman with short, red hair. Standing together, in size they reminded her of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Pamela Reed’s characters in Kindergarten Cop.

  “Hi Sali.” He looked past her. “Is Amy up to seeing us?”

  “Yes. She wanted to get a nap in before you got here. I’ll get her.”

  Several minutes later, with her help, Amy entered the living room and greeted her visitors. Sali motioned to two chairs and when the detectives sat, she and Amy took seats on the couch.

  Detective Johnston motioned toward the woman to his left, and said, “Amy, Sali, this is Detective Ann Johnson. She’s been working with me on your case.”

  “Johnson and Johnson,” Amy said with a small laugh.

  The woman didn’t look amused, but he smiled. “We get that a lot, only my name is Johnston with a T.”

  “Some people assume we’re married,” Detective Johnson said.

  Both sisters nodded. Sali waited for one of the detectives to begin as neither she nor her sister had anything new to add to their previous talks.

  Finally, Johnston said, “Amy, you had said the tattoo on your upper arm was something you created.”

  A puzzled look crossed Amy’s face, and Sali wondered why he was again showing interest in a tattoo.

  “Yes.”

  He shot a quick look to the woman sitting in the other chair, and reached into his jacket pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he held something shiny looped over his finger. As he extended his arm, Sali recognized it as the keychain of Amy’s emblem she had had made and given as gifts.

  “Did you have this made?” he asked as he handed it to Amy.

  As her fingers wrapped around it, she said, “Yes, but only four of them.” She turned it over in her hand, and then extended her arm to show Sali. “Look. This is Aunt Katherine’s.”

  She took it from Amy and read the inscription. Her hands became clammy as she held it. “Where did you get this?”

  This time Detective Johnson spoke. “We found it in the vacant building where the shots were fired from. After the shooting we suspected you might be the Amy mentioned in the inscription, but when Detective Johnston saw your tattoo, we were sure. We were just waiting until you were able to talk without pain before we questioned you about it.”

  Amy took it back from her sister. “I gave this to my aunt about five years ago, but I don’t understand what it would be doing in that building.”

  “We’re certain it was left behind by your assailant, but we still don’t know who that might be.”

  Detective Johnson said, “We’re going to need to talk to your aunt. She could have lost it unknowingly and someone picked it up, which wouldn’t help us much; or she might have had her purse stolen, or her house broken into. If it’s the latter, and we can catch whoever did it, we’ll know where to look next.”

  “Sure,” Sali said as she stood and walked past them to her purse. She pulled out a small notebook and pen, and wrote out her aunt’s name, address, and phone number. When she was through, she handed it to Detective Johnston. “Anything we can do to help.”

  He read what she had written, and then handed it to his partner who scanned the piece of paper and looked back to him.

  It was as if time had slowed to frame-by-frame. Her sub-conscience caught the most subliminal changes in the detectives’ expressions: the nervous lick of her lips, the softening of his eyes, the slight bowing of their heads.

  Along with the sick feeling churning in her stomach was the sudden realization of why they’d been unable to reach their aunt. Instinct told her they were about to be handed tragedy, and a hanky if he were a gentleman.

  “Omigod.”

  The detectives stood simultaneously. One approached Amy, the other, Sali. He spoke first. “I’m so sorry. We were unable to locate her next of kin.”

  “What? Sali, what is he talking about?”

  She ignored her sister and pulled back the hand she was unaware the woman detective had taken hold of. Looking at Detective Johnston, she said, “What happened? Tell me exactly what happened.”

  His Adams apple bobbed and settled as he readied himself to deliver the news. “Three weeks ago, your aunt was the victim of what we believe was a home invasion. It appeared to be a random crime. Nothing appeared to be missing, and at this point I’m sorry to have to tell you we have no leads.” He looked to his partner, and then back. “I’m hoping that keychain might change that.”

  Amy had buried her face in her hands before he was through speaking. Sali bent to wrap her arms around her sobbing sister. She turned her face away from the detectives until she was certain she could control her emotions enough to speak coherently. “How?”

  This time, the woman spoke in a softer tone than she had previously used. “She was strangled.”

  Amy’s sobbing became wailing. No longer did she hide her face, but looked around the room as if trying to find a place to hide or something to throw. She placed a hand over her chest and Sali put herself in front of her sister, bent further, and asked, “Are you OK? Do you want to go lie down?”

  Amy nodded and pulled in a few short gasps. Through her tears, she said, “Aunt Katherine…” before her words trailed off.

  Once she had settled Amy into bed, Sali returned to the living room. The detectives were seated again, both wearing solemn expressions. When she returned to her place on the couch, Detective Johnston said, “I know this is a lot on your sister and I don’t want to upset her on top of everything else she’s been through, so would you mind if we asked you a few questions? If you can answer them, it will keep us from having to talk to her. If not, we’ll come back.”

  She intertwined her fingers and took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

  He began. “At first we believed this was a random act, but obviously the keychain changes that.”

  “Added to your aunt’s murder, we have every reason to believe your sister was the intended target,” his partner added to what he had said.

  “No one plans out something like this with the intention of wounding. That means they’ll be back, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you,” he said, “most likely, which leads me to my next question. Does she have anywhere else to stay? It would probably be best if it weren’t with you as that would probably be the first place they head when they realize she isn’t here.”

  Her thoughts were thickening like soup. Without focus or clarity, she was unable to concentrate. “I’ll have to work that out.”

  Detective Johnson said, “I wouldn’t take too long.”

  Sali
turned her attention to Johnston when he spoke. “Does your sister have any enemies, a jilted boyfriend, possibly a friend dealing with emotional issues?”

  “No.” Sali stood. “Absolutely not. She’s the kindest, most laid-back person you’ll ever meet. She avoids confrontation like it’s a scud missile, plays peacemaker to everyone, and I’ve never heard her say an unkind word that wasn’t the absolute truth, and even then, only if it was unavoidable. I’m sure it seems like I’m making her out to be this side shy of sainthood, but that’s truly the way she is. Even with you finding that keychain at the scene, I still want to believe what happened was a random act.”

  Both detectives bowed their head in unison. Detective Johnston looked up first and began to speak. “I know this is hard, but our bottom line is finding the person responsible for this. Let’s start with romantic partners. At the hospital you said something about her having recently broken up with her boyfriend?”

  She breathed in until her lungs were filled to capacity, and released the air slowly. At the end of all of the questions, they wanted the same thing. She knew that. She also knew if they were going to get to the bottom of it, their questions wouldn’t be pleasant. “Yes. Well, not exactly. He’s the one who ended it while she was still in Paris. She hasn’t talked about it much just to say he called her late one night and said something about having to become the man he wanted to be, or maybe it was the man she wanted him to be. I’m not sure. I’m also not sure whether she’s talked to him since she returned. If she has, she hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Paul. Paul Kline. He’s an artist who also teaches adult classes at the college.”

  “Has there been anyone else recently?”

  Sali shook her head.

  “Has she had a falling out with anyone that you’re aware of?”

  “No.”

  “How about a work rivalry? Do you know if she’s in competition with anyone, possibly someone who envies her?”