“I’m going to set this thing off,” I said. I stepped through and heard the beeping.
The guard opened his door and handed me a little plastic tray, just like at an airport. “Put it all in here, sir. Watch, keys.”
“It’s a bullet,” I said. “It’s in here.” I pointed to my heart.
Browning and the guard looked at each other for a second, and then the guard pulled out his hand unit and waved it over me. It gave out a long wail when he passed it in front of my chest.
Browning stood there in front of me, rubbing his chin. “Rose did that?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you sure you want to see him?”
“I have to,” I said.
“Right this way.” He turned and led me down the hallway. I knew there were two types of visitation areas. One for family, with couches and chairs so you could sit with an inmate, even have physical contact if you only went so far. Take away the guards and it would almost look like a living room. But it was empty now as we walked past it. He took me to the other visitation area, the one you picture in your mind because you’ve seen it in the movies. A thick wall of glass, a pair of telephones. He led me to one of the booths, sat me down, and then left me there. The chair on the other side was empty.
I waited there for a few minutes, thinking about what was going to happen. All the time I was driving down here, I was thinking about what to ask him, about what questions I needed answered. I wasn’t really thinking about that day in Detroit when he shot me. But when that metal detector went off, it all came back to me. I’m going to see the man who shot me three times and killed my partner. Fourteen years later, I’m going to see his face again.
I heard a heavy door close. I saw a guard pass by on the other side. Behind him, moving slowly, a man in a prison uniform. He sat down in the chair without looking at me. He had long hair and a long beard. It was all streaked with gray. He was thin. His wrists looked so frail you could snap them like pencils. He finally looked at me.
It was him.
I knew those eyes. Everything else about him had changed, but those eyes were the same. I would have known them anywhere. Even out of context. Forget the jail, forget that I was expecting to see him. Dress him up as a deliveryman, send him to my front door. As soon as I saw those eyes, I would know it was him.
He sat there looking at me, the same way he did before he shot me. The fear came back to me. I knew in my mind that I was safe, but still I couldn’t stop the physical reaction to seeing him.
I fought it down, trying to focus on why I had come here. I picked up the phone and waited for him to do the same. When he did, I cleared my throat and spoke to him.
“Do you remember me?” I said.
He just looked at me through the glass.
“I was a police officer in Detroit,” I said. “You shot me.”
“Yes?” he said. His voice was flat. It barely sounded human. It could have come from a machine.
“You killed my partner,” I said.
“Go on.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said. “That’s not really why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yes,” he said. “You want information.”
“How do you know this?”
“I have been here a long time. I have become a wise man in many ways.”
It was hard to look at him. His face was drawn and haggard. His hair went in every direction, like Medusa’s snakes. It made his eyes all the more terrible. “Do you know a man named Raymond Julius?” I asked.
He looked at me like he hadn’t even heard me.
“Wisdom is a precious metal,” he said. “Information is the ore from which wisdom is, what’s the word, smelted?”
“Do you know the man?” I said.
“Is that the right word? Smelted?”
“Raymond Julius. Do you know him?”
“You all want information, don’t you,” he said.
“Who? Who’s all of us?”
“All of you,” he said. “Lawyers, psychologists, scientists. You want the information so you may become wise. You all think you can trick it out of me.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m not a lawyer or a psychologist or a scientist. And I didn’t come all the way down here to smelt any wisdom, all right? Can you talk to me like a human being for one minute?”
“When I was first discovered, I said some things. There were two policemen. I remember them. They came to my apartment.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” I said. “I told you, I was one of those policemen.”
“Then they captured me and tried to make me talk. A man was supposed to represent me at the trial. He tried to make me say that I was crazy.”
“Rose, did you hear me? I said I was one of those policeman.”
He shook his finger at me and gave out a little laugh. It sounded like a chain rattling. “Very clever,” he said. “I can see why they sent you. You even look like him. An excellent ploy. I must commend you.”
“Rose, I was there. You shot me, remember? You shot both of us.”
“Yes, I shot both of you. Both of them, I mean. See, you are trying to trick me.”
I squeezed the phone. This was hopeless. “Okay, you win,” I said. “You’re too smart for me. You’ve obviously been doing a lot of smelting in here.”
“You’ll never make me tell you,” he said. “I’ll never reveal my plan.”
“Of course not,” I said. “Perish the thought.”
“I am strong,” he said. “Every passing hour, I grow stronger.”
“I can see that,” I said. “You look great. You’ve been working out?”
“You mock me.”
“You’ve lost some weight, too. What are you down to, about ninety pounds?”
“You dare to mock me.”
“Yeah, Rose, I dare to mock you. You wanna know why? Because you’re a crazy motherfucking piece of shit, that’s why. You want me to tell you about the man you killed? You want me to tell you about his wife and his two kids?”
“They sent you here, didn’t they.”
“He had two daughters, Rose. Two little girls.”
“I know they sent you here.”
“They had to go to their daddy’s funeral, Rose. Two little girls standing next to a hole in the ground because you killed their daddy.”
“Tell them I can’t be bought,” he said. “Tell them my information is not for sale.”
“What’s it like being in prison, anyway?” I said. “Looks like you’re in the main population here, aren’t you. I bet you’ve made a lot of new friends.”
“I can leave anytime I want.”
“So why don’t you? Why don’t you leave right now? We’ll go have a beer.”
“I choose to stay for the time being.”
“Sure you do. You must like it here. They must treat you real nice here. How many times have you been raped since you’ve been here?”
For the first time since he sat down, he looked away.
“How many times?” I said. “Give me a ballpark figure. A hundred times? Two hundred?”
He looked back at me, scratching his beard.
“Where does it happen, Rose? In the showers? How many times have you been raped in the showers?”
“You’re a fool.” His voice had a sudden edge to it.
“They’ve got an expression for that, don’t they? Being afraid of the alligators? That’s when you’re afraid to take a shower because you know you’re gonna get raped again, right?”
“You’re all fools.”
“Tell me about Raymond Julius,” I said.
“I don’t know this name.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been talking to him. Or writing letters to him.”
“It’s an interesting name. I like it.”
“Which was it? Did you talk to him or write letters?”
“The name has a good sound to it.”
“Did he visit you?”
“Many people visit me.”
“Yeah, I bet they line up at the gates every morning.”
“I have many friends. They come to see me and ask my advice.”
“Advice on what? How to be a crazy fucking headcase?”
“They come from all over the world.”
“Two daughters, Rose. Two little girls. You killed their father.”
“I killed both of them,” he said.
“Both of whom?”
“I shot both of them,” he said. “And they both died.”
“Who died?”
“The policemen. They both died. I removed them.”
“Hey guess what, Rose.” I leaned in closer to the glass. “Look at me. I didn’t die.”
“I removed both of them.”
“I didn’t die, Rose. You didn’t remove me.”
“They died. I removed them.”
“I was at the trial, remember? I helped put you away.”
“I’m enjoying this,” he said. “I really am. You should come back more often.”
“Look, I don’t care if you think you—” I stopped. Wait a minute, I thought. Something is not right here. The man is saying he killed me. He thinks I’m dead. There’s no way he would have told Julius all this shit about me being the chosen one if he didn’t even think I was alive.
Unless he was just trying to fool me now. Unless he was playing a game with me.
“I’m going to ask you this one more time,” I said. “Has a man named Raymond Julius been in contact with you or not?”
“Why do you need to know this?”
“Never mind why,” I said. “Just tell me.”
“You really do look like that policeman,” he said. “The resemblance is remarkable.”
I lunged at the glass. “JUST TELL ME, GODDAMN IT!”
Rose went backward in his chair, tipping it over. The phone jumped out of his hand. The sound he made was an inhuman shriek, the look on his face was sudden, complete terror. The guard on the other side had to put him in an armlock and usher him away. I could hear him screaming as he was dragged out of the cell. The door closed with a metallic thud and then there was silence.
I sat there for a long time. I had never seen such fear in a man. For a tenth of a second, I almost felt sorry for him. Then I thought about Franklin and his family and got over it.
Browning was waiting for me when I left the room. “You certainly pushed his hot button,” he said. “They’re going to have to sedate him.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“So I’m going to ask you a question now.”
“No harm asking.”
“Has Rose had any contact with a man named Raymond Julius in the last six months? Letters or visits?”
He exhaled heavily and looked up the hallway. “Walk this way,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“To the exit.”
“Fine,” I said. “I give up.”
He walked me back through the waiting room and out the door. I was expecting a handshake and a goodbye, but he gave me a little bit more. “You didn’t hear this from me,” he said. “Rose has had no outside contact for the past five years.”
“None at all? Are you sure?”
“None. No letters. No lawyer calls. No visits since a mental health follow-up five years ago. Even then, the file says he just sat there, wouldn’t say a word. So that’s it. I hope that tells you what you need to know. Have a safe trip back.” He shook my hand and then he was gone.
I got in the truck, drove through the gate, watched the prison recede in my rearview mirror. When I made the highway I turned the radio on for a minute and then turned it back off. I wasn’t ready for noise yet. I needed to think.
Okay, so Julius never really talked to Rose. So what? Maybe it was all in his head. He read the clippings and then he imagined that Rose was talking to him in the shower or in his sleep or wherever the hell else.
So how did he know about the microwaves and the chosen one and all that? Because he was nuts. Because Rose is nuts and Julius is nuts and that’s how they think. Paranoia, fear of technology, delusions about a messiah, it all comes with the territory, right? They were both tuned to the same station.
And the rest of it you’re just imagining, Alex. If you keep it up, you’re going to end up just as crazy as they are. So just find a way to put it behind you. Rose is in prison forever, Julius is in the ground. It’s over. O-V-E-R.
I turned the radio back on and settled in for a long drive back. I was in no rush this time. I figured I’d just keep driving until I got hungry or tired. Pull over, have some dinner, maybe get a room for a night. Probably do me some good, a night away from everything.
By the time I reached Lansing, the sun was beginning to go down. I started to relax a little bit. Just a little.
By the time I reached Alma, I started to see a few flakes in the air again. Winter would come quickly, as it always did. Soon the cabins would be buried in two feet of snow. There wasn’t much hunting in the winter, just some rabbit and coyote. There’d be mostly snowmobilers renting the cabins, maybe some ice fisherman. The locks would close, the bay and the river would freeze over, so hard you’d be able to walk across it, all the way to Canada if you wanted to.
I stopped for dinner in Houghton Lake, found a little place that served fresh walleye. I thought about Sylvia, what might happen to the two of us. She said she didn’t know if we could start over. I wondered if we really could, or if the guilt and the pain would come back to ruin everything. But then as I went back to the truck and breathed the cold night air, I got a little boost from somewhere. A second wind, whatever you want to call it. Back when I was playing ball we’d have a lot of doubleheaders late in the summer. You usually try to split your catchers, but there were a couple times when I had to work both games. A whole day behind the plate, setting up for the pitch, standing up to throw the ball back, setting up again, a good three hundred times. Trying to keep the pitcher’s head together, holding runners on base, taking foul balls off the mask. By the middle of the second game, I’d be so drained they’d have to help me off the bench so I could strap the shinpads back on.
But on a good day, I’d find something extra in the last couple innings, some reserve of strength that I didn’t know about. That one day in Columbus, my best day as a ballplayer, I drove in the go-ahead run in the eighth inning, and then in the ninth I had to block the plate on their big first baseman. He was coming down that line like a house on wheels. I caught the ball just before he hit me. When I came to, I checked to see if I still had the ball and then I checked to see if my head was still attached. The umpire called him out and we won the game.
It felt good to think about those days again, to think about anything else for a change.
And then around Gaylord, it started to come to me. I thought about Julius again. And about everything that had happened. Everything I had seen, everything that had been said. I couldn’t keep it out of my mind any longer. For the first time, I had stopped thinking about it, and now that I looked at it again, I was starting to see some things I had missed.
By the time I got to Mackinac, I had it all worked out. I could see how it all fit together, from beginning to end. And what I saw made me mad.
You’re a fool, Alex. You’re a goddamned fool. How did it take you so long to figure this out?
I crossed the bridge into the Upper Peninsula doing seventy. Suddenly I had somewhere to go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT WASN’T HARD to find his house. Not like when I dragged Prudell all over town for Julius’s house. This house was in the book.
It was a nice neighborhood, up on the hill by the college. Maybe not as nice as I thought it would be. The house was actually quite modest, a little two-story mock Tudor with a small yard. His car was parked in the driveway.
It was just after eleven o’clock at nigh
t. But I could see that his lights were on. I felt good about that. I wouldn’t have to wake him up. That would have been very rude.
I parked the truck on the street, careful not to block his car in the driveway. That would have been very rude, as well.
I walked up to the front door. I was about to ring the doorbell, but instead I tried turning the knob. It was unlocked. How nice. I walked right in.
There was a little entry way with a stone floor. A living room. There was a fire going in the fireplace. I walked through the room. In the back of the house there was a study. Lots of books on the walls. He was sitting there behind the desk, looking through a pile of travel brochures.
“Alex!” he said when he saw me. “My God, you scared me!”
“Good evening, Lane,” I said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Uttley gathered up some of his brochures. “I was just trying to decide where to go on vacation,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” If he was surprised to see me here, he was doing a good job of hiding it.
“That’s nice,” I said.
“Alex, are you all right? What’s going on?”
“Don’t get up,” I said. “I’m just going to sit right here and ask you a couple questions.” I pulled up a chair and sat down in front of his desk.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “What questions?”
“I’m not even sure where to begin,” I said. “I don’t know which question I want answered first.”
“What’s going on, Alex? What are you doing here?”
“Okay, here’s a good one to start with,” I said. “A little ice breaker, if you will. Where’s Edwin?”
“Edwin is at the bottom of Lake Superior. You know that.”
“I’m supposed to know that, yes. Just like the police are supposed to know that. And Sylvia. And everybody else in the world.”
“I don’t get it,” he said. “What are you talking about?”
“That night at his house. After dinner, he kept talking about how good it felt to be starting over. I guess he really meant that, huh?”
“Alex, what are you talking abouti”
A Cold Day in Paradise (Alex McKnight Mysteries) Page 23
