Left Holding the Bag

by Carol Dean Jones

  “I agree completely, Sarah. If they’d do something like this, they’re too dangerous for you to be around,” Norman responded.

  “I agree, too,” Andy added. “That’s too dangerous for you two.”

  “The big brave men looking out for the little ladies?” Sarah mumbled looking irritated, and Sophie chuckled.

  “Sarah,” Charles began, not wanting to continue their argument in public, but wanting the others to understand his point of view, “Capello is known to have mob connections. You’re talking about getting close to some dangerous folks.”

  Sarah didn’t respond, but he could see that the others agreed with him. “How about I keep working on the department to follow up on this. They are the ones that should be doing this kind of investigation.”

  For someone who doesn’t want to get involved, Sarah thought, my husband sure stays in the thick of it.

  “If you’re willing to do that, Charles, I think that’s the answer,” Norman said.

  Everyone except Sarah nodded their agreement, including Sophie.

  “Well, if that’s it, I guess we’re finished for tonight. Let’s all go home and see if we can think of anything else we can do.”

  As the meeting was breaking up, Norman’s guests showered him with praise for both the food and the accommodations. As Sarah watched him responding to the praise, she noticed how humbly he accepted the compliments. She was glad Sophie had him in her life.

  Driving home, Charles reached for Sarah’s hand, and she moved closer to him. “Sorry, hon,” he said without explanation. She knew what he meant.

  “It’s okay. You’re probably right.” A few minutes later, she commented, “That was a lovely evening, wasn’t it?”

  “The cause that brought us all together is rather morbid,” he responded, “but our friends are some of the nicest people I’ve ever known. Every one of them is kind and caring.”

  “And they’d do anything for any one of us. I feel very fortunate to be where I am at this point in my life.”

  “It wasn’t just by chance, sweetie. You’ve made a good life for yourself. I see men and women around the village that seem to be just waiting to die. They focus on their ailments instead of what’s good about their lives. As far as I’m concerned, life is meant to be lived with gusto right up to the end.”

  Sarah chuckled and squeezed his hand.

  Chapter 16

  “Charlie, sorry to call so early in the morning, but I knew you’d want to know.” Charles was groggy when he answered the phone and didn’t immediately recognized the voice. He glanced at the display and saw it was Det. Halifax and at the clock and saw that it was four-thirty in the morning.

  “That’s okay Hal. What’s up?” He responded as he held back a yawn.

  “It’s Matt, Charlie. He had a heart attack on his way home last night and is in intensive care.”

  “How serious?” Charles asked as he threw the covers back and stood up.

  “Serious, Charlie. Very serious. He spent the night in surgery, and the doc says it’s touch and go at this point. No one’s allowed to see him. The Chief wanted me to call you to see if you know about any next of kin. Records only show the wife, and of course, she’s gone now.”

  “He’s never mentioned anyone,” Charles said, still feeling the effects of the shock. “You say it’s very serious?”

  “Yeah Charlie. You might want to come over to the hospital. You’re closer to him than anyone.”

  Sarah turned on the light and gasped when she saw her husband’s face. “Charles, what is it?”

  He gestured that he would tell her in a moment. His face was ashen, and she could detect a complex combination of emotions – worry, fear, even anger. She knew immediately that the call wasn’t family – he would have told her right away. She thought she had heard him say “Hal.” It must have to do with the Department.

  When Charles hung up the phone, he collapsed on the side of the bed looking defeated. “It’s Matt,” he finally said. “It’s his heart.” He told Sarah what little he knew. “Hal said he was driving home when the pains started. He ended up in the hospital with open-heart surgery.”

  “I heard you say that it’s serious. Will he be okay?”

  “That’s all I know. They want me at the hospital.”

  Sarah pulled on her robe and slippers and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make you a quick breakfast while you shower. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “I’ll probably be just hanging around there most of the day. I’ll call and let you know what’s going on.” As he headed for the bathroom, he realized Sarah had come back into the bedroom looking worried.

  “Charles, what happened about that test Dr. Grossman was scheduling for you?”

  “Oh no,” he responded as he hit his head with the heel of his hand. “I totally forgot about that. His nurse called me a couple of weeks ago to set it up, and I told her I’d call her back.”

  “Charles…”

  “I know, hon. I’ll call the office today once I know what’s going on with Matt.”

  “I hate to say this, Charles, but that could be you in that hospital. It scares me to think what could happen.”

  He reached over and pulled her into his arms. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just got wrapped up in this case. I’ll take care of it today, I promise.”

  * * *

  When Charles pulled into visitor parking, he saw eight or ten officers from the Department leaving. Not a good sign, he thought, but then realized it could, in fact, be an excellent sign. ”Maybe things are looking up,” he told himself hopefully.

  He bypassed the reception area, flashing his outdated Department ID as he hurried by and headed directly for the cardiac care unit. As he approached the nurse’s station, there was only one person from the Department left, Detective Halifax. He was speaking with a nurse and looking pale.

  Hal turned and looked at Charles with a combination of pain and dread. Charles hung back at first and didn’t speak. He didn’t want to hear what he feared Halifax was about to say. Reluctantly, he walked up to the desk, and Hal placed his hand on Charles’ shoulder. “He’s gone, Charlie.” The younger man blinked away tears.

  The color drained from the older man’s face, and he felt momentarily unsteady. “Gone?” he repeated. “You mean he didn’t make it?” Charles asked incredulously, feeling temporarily disoriented. The full impact of Hal’s words finally sunk in, and Charles knew he had to pull himself together for Hal. Although Charles and Matt had been friends for three decades, young Halifax had looked to the man as a mentor, and possibly even as a father figure. The loss was great for him too.

  Detective Halifax nodded, then closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. The two men stood silently together for a few moments until Charles finally spoke. “What about the arrangements?” he asked, looking first at Hal and then at the nurse.

  “The Department is handling everything,” Hal replied. “I just spoke with the Chief.”

  The two men left the hospital together without speaking. “Could you give me a ride back to the station?” Hal asked when they reached the parking lot. “I just remembered that I told Gallagher to take my car when I thought…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Charles knew the man had expected to be by Matt’s side that day just as he had.

  “You coming in?” Hal asked when they pulled up in front of the station.

  “No, I don’t think I can take it today.”

  Hal got out and thanked Charles, adding, “Sorry, sir.”

  “Me too.”

  As the detective walked away, Charles called to him. “Would you let the Chief know I’d like to be involved in the service in any way he thinks is appropriate – casket watch, pallbearer, whatever they need. There’s no family, you know.”

  “There’s you and me, Charlie. Matt’s been like a father to me,” he added, his voice catching as he looked away.

  * * *

  Sarah heard the car pull into the garage and was surpr
ised that Charles was returning so soon. She had expected him to be at the hospital most of the day.

  When she saw his face, she knew.

  Chapter 17

  “Hal, it’s Charlie Parker. I’d like to see you.”

  It had been several weeks since the funeral and Charles was just getting to the point where he could begin to focus on other things. The loss had been profound and painful for him, but his friends and family had been a great comfort to him. Today he felt ready to revisit the Waterford girl’s murder.

  “Come on over, Charlie,” the detective responded. “I’ll be in the office for another hour or two.”

  When he arrived, Charles pulled a chair over near Hal and spoke in a confidential tone, saying, “Hal, I know the department doesn’t want me involved in active cases, but I want to help you solve the Waterford case. I owe it to Matt.”

  “Yeah, I feel that way too,” the detective responded. “That case was the final nail in his coffin. Lt. Gibson’s been transferred in from Deep Lake to take Matt’s place, and that means he’s got the case. They’re keeping me on it and, as you can imagine, it’s a political nightmare for him already. He said he’s getting calls from the Chief, the Mayor, our congressmen, and the all the newspapers between here and Tennessee – and after every one of those calls, he calls me.”

  Charles shook his head, remembering the pressures that came with the political cases, and almost everything these days was turned into a political case. “I’d like your help, Charlie, but we’ll have to keep it under wraps.”

  Charles shook his head, remembering the pressures that came with the political cases, and almost everything these days was turned into a political case. “I’d like your help, Charlie, but we’ll have to keep it under wraps.”

  They discussed the logistics and agreed to get together that evening at the Parkers’ house. It was Sarah’s quilt club night, so they’d have the house to themselves.

  As he was driving home, Charles thought about his friend’s funeral and the impressive turnout of Matt’s fellow officers. Many took the opportunity to speak, paying their respect to this esteemed officer whom they consistently described as competent and thorough in his work, fair and consistent with his officers, and admired by his friends. Charles started to stand, but felt that what he had to say was too personal. He wanted to thank Matt for his friendship, his mentoring in the early days, for sharing his pain when his first wife died, and for making it possible for him to continue to be involved in department cases from time to time after he retired.

  Instead of driving directly home, Charles turned into Green Knolls Cemetery and knelt by his friend’s grave. Tears ran down his cheeks as he poured out his heart and requested his friend’s forgiveness for never having said these things to him while he was alive.

  “He knew,” Sarah said to him later that day. “Just like you know he cared about you.”

  * * *

  Sarah had prepared a tray of cheese and crackers before she left and Charles had just handed Hal a beer. “Why don’t you start,” Charlie said. “Where is the Department on this case?”

  “Okay, well first I’d like to catch you up on a few things that the department has been working on – things I don’t think Matt shared with you.” He went on to explain that they had projected the most likely route Darius had driven in order to reach the location where the body was found near Nashville. “We’ve faxed pictures and requested that local departments take a look at diners and truck stops along the way to see if anyone remembers anything.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Not yet, but we’re hopeful. There’s no way we can force the local jurisdictions to investigate on our behalf, and Headquarters hasn’t released funds for our own men to go down.”

  “At least not yet,” Charles interjected, knowing that funds became available in direct correlation to the degree of political pressure.

  “True, but for now, we’re at the mercy of these local jurisdictions.”

  “Okay,” Charles responded. “I have some information to share with you as well, and Matt wasn’t aware of any of this. A small group of friends here in the village have gotten together to do some local legwork. They’ve interviewed friends of the girl and have been able to track her to the moment she left town with Darius.”

  Charles had borrowed Sophie’s card file for the meeting, and he went on to give the detective all the names of the people they had spoken with and the information they had been able to compile as a result.

  “Impressive,” the detective commented, making a few notes of his own. “There may be some useful leads in here. We’ll get right on it. I want our boys to talk to every one of these kids.”

  They spent another hour going over the various theories the group had come up with as well as a few ideas the Department had developed. The detective assured Charles that the investigators would take a serious look at everything but went on to admit that the Department felt that Darius Mitchell was the most likely perpetrator. “Most of the Department’s efforts are concentrated on finding him.”

  The detective went on to say, “There’s the fingerprints, Charlie, and he had opportunity – the body was found in his car – at least the car he stole. The guy’s a loser with a record, he’s already wanted for a felony, and there’s that bench warrant hanging out there. All we really have to his credit is the blind faith of his ex-foster mother.”

  “I know, Hal, and I appreciate that you’re willing to listen to other points of view. We may all be misguided by this woman’s perception, but my gut tells me it wasn’t him. Over the years, I’ve learned to trust that feeling. It’s been right far more often than it’s been wrong.”

  After an evening of serious brainstorming about the case intermixed with getting to know one another on a more personal level, the two men were relaxing with a beer when Sarah returned.

  “So, what have you detectives been up to tonight?” Sarah asked as she hung her jacket in the hall closet. The men were still sitting in the living room with an empty platter between them and several beer bottles on their side tables. “You couldn’t give your guest a glass?” she needled her husband.

  “Real men don’t drink beer from glasses,” Charles joshed in return.

  “Well, there’s a lady present now, so I’m getting you both glasses.”

  “Not for me,” Hal said standing up and reaching for his coat which he had tossed on the couch. Sarah gave Charles another disapproving look when she realized he hadn’t offered to take his guest’s coat. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” Hal continued. Turning to Charles, he said, “Thanks for sharing all this information with me, Charlie, and tell that friend of yours that her 3x5 card file was extremely helpful.”

  “She’ll love hearing that,” Sarah responded.”

  “So how was your quilt club meeting?” Charles asked as he closed the front door.

  “We always have a great time, but I’d rather hear about your meeting with the detective. Did you learn anything?”

  “I think he learned more than I did, actually,” Charles confessed. “The police have honed in on Darius as the killer, and most of their efforts seem to be directed toward finding him.”

  “But the paper said he’s only a person of interest.”

  “Same thing, essentially. They can’t accuse him at this point.”

  “So,” Sarah concluded, “this only means we have to work faster and smarter. If we don’t find out who killed the girl, then no one will, and Darius will be convicted.”

  “Sarah, have you considered that he just might have killed the girl?”

  “Charles, I’ve told you before that I trust Bernice’s judgment. She has known him most of his life, and she knows he couldn’t have done this heinous crime.”

  “Sarah, your friend who, by the way, you’ve only known for a couple of months, only recently became somewhat realistic about her foster son’s past criminal behavior. How can we really trust her judgment about him now?”

  �
��I thought you told me that your instincts tell you he didn’t do it.”

  “Well,” he responded tentatively, “I guess I’m just beginning to question my instincts.”

  “Aren’t they usually right?”

  “They were,” he responded.

  But can I still trust them, he asked himself, but not aloud. I’m getting old, I’ve had strokes with neurological damage, it’s been more than ten years since I was actively in the field. What if I’m wrong?”

  “You can’t fool me, Charles,” Sarah responded to his silence. “I can always tell when you’re having a serious discussion with yourself and those one-sided talks of yours are never productive. You need to be communicating your thoughts to another person. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Okay. I was thinking that perhaps my age and health have affected my investigative instincts.”

  “Nonsense,” she responded, brushing him aside with a dismissive hand gesture and walking out of the room.

  “Well,” he muttered to himself sarcastically, “So much for the benefits of communicating my thoughts.” He shook his head with a chuckle, turned off the light, and followed his wife out of the room.

  * * *

  There was a tapping at Sarah’s kitchen door while she was making coffee the next morning. “Who’s there?” she called out, and Barney immediately ran into the kitchen barking.

  “It’s just me,” Sophie called out. “Tell that dog it’s a friend.”

  “It’s okay, Barney,” Sarah said, holding his collar as she unlocked the door. They weren’t accustomed to people knocking at the kitchen door since it only opened into the garage. “How did you get into the garage?” she asked, looking out and seeing that the garage door was raised. “Oh, I guess Charles forgot to close it,” she said as she pushed the control button and it automatically lowered.

  “This is a surprise,” she said. Her friend had obviously walked from her house and was carrying a small tote bag. “Come on in. Coffee’s on.”