Done Rubbed Out

by Jeffery Craig

  “You’d better! I’ll be on pins and needles all weekend. Are you taking the girls?”

  “Yes, as if there was any doubt! If they knew they’d missed out on a chance to act like little hooligans in public, I’d never hear the end of it. And, they adore Will. He thinks they’re pretty special too, although so far they’ve been on their best behavior around him. Keep your fingers crossed that he’ll feel the same way after witnessing one of Emily’s famous, dramatic meltdowns, or experiencing a three day stretch of Melissa’s sulks. I don’t know where they get it from.”

  Melba thought she just might know where her granddaughters had come by those traits, but kept it to herself. “I can’t wait to hear about the weekend, Abby. I‘m sure you’ll have a lot of fun. Now, before we get off on another tangent, I better get off of the phone. It’s getting late and we both have to be at work early in the morning. Kiss the girls for me!”

  “Will do, Mom. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight Abby. Talk to you soon.” Melba ended the call and dropped the phone back in the purse.

  She considered pouring a glass of wine, but settled for a cup of the special tea that Zhou Li had given her. She carried it to the ugly plaid couch and curled up, with her sock-covered feet underneath her. As she held the warm cup between her hands, she thought about Abby and the girls. She reflected on the life she’d once had, with a comfortable home in suburbia, and all that came with it. She remembered having extra money to spend on things like a good haircut or a nice blouse or pair of shoes that she really didn’t need, but wanted. She took a sip of the tea. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Reightman! That was then. This is now. And it ain’t all bad.”

  As she sipped her tea she thought about her current case and the people she had met: Toby Bailey, Madame Zhou Li, and the quirky folks operating the businesses on Capital Street. She thought about her partner, Sam. She thought about her daughter and her two precious grandchildren. “Some of it’s interesting, some of it’s surprising, and some of it’s really good.”

  Melba finished her tea, and put the cup on the table by the sofa. She turned off the light and headed to her bedroom. Climbing into her bed and pulling back her sheets, she thought she smelled the lingering perfume of jasmine.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TUESDAY MORNING, MELBA tracked down Sam at his usual place by the coffee pot waiting for the brew to finish. He was catching up on the scuttlebutt with the rest of the gang.

  “What’s up, Jackson?” she asked as she nodded good morning to the rest of the bodies squeezed into the room waiting on their own cups.

  “Well, while you’ve been catching up on your beauty sleep, the rest of us have been catching up on the news. Greggs is retiring.” The Assistant Police Chief had been a fixture in the department for as long as Melba had been on the force.

  “Really? When’s his last day?” She inched in front of Sam and filled her own cup with hot water.

  “In another week or two. Said it was time to hand in his badge and pick up a fishin’ pole.”

  “Good for him. It’s about time.”

  “Yes, it is.” Jackson filled his cup and moved away from the pot and reached for a donut. “You thinking about applying for the job?”

  “I don’t know, Jackson. This is the first I’m hearing of it. How about you? You’d be a great Assistant Chief.”

  “I don’t think I could deal with all the administrative bullshit. Plus, Alice would kill me. She’s looking forward to my retirement in a few years and is already making plans for how we’re going to spend the time. Some of her ideas are pretty surprising.” He wiggled his eyebrows to make sure she got the point. “You should give it some serious thought, though.” He sidled over to the table loaded with the daily assortment of pastries. “Want one?” He considered the selection and then picked up the chocolate glazed winner.

  “Nope, better not,” she answered regretfully. “I might as well just wear a donut taped to my hip.” She dunked the tea bag in her cup and waited for the ribbing to start. When it didn’t, she looked around the full room and noticed the unnatural silence and the anxious looks on some of the faces. “What else is going on?”

  “Helliman’s in with the Chief.”

  “Oh. I guess they rounded him up then.”

  “Yes, they did. He was pretty out of control when they escorted him to the Chief’s office."

  Reightman refrained from further comment as they headed to their desks. She’d just stowed her purse when Jones and Mitchell rounded the corner. They pulled up about a foot away from her desk, and Jones clicked his heels together and saluted.

  “Detective Vincent Jones reporting for duty, ma’am. Have your way with me, please, ma’am.”

  She groaned at his salacious smile. “You wish, Jones.” She swung around in her chair to face Jackson, “Can you believe this crap?” Sam tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his grin. He was obviously anticipating all the fun ahead. Reightman turned back around to Mitchell. He was dressed in a pair of khakis with an open collared shirt and a navy sports coat. “He must have received secret dress for success tips from Sam.” He started to copy Jones with the saluting routine, and she quickly cut in before he could finish. She didn’t need three smart asses in their new little group. “Don’t even think about it, Officer Mitchell.”

  The young cop gave her a sheepish grin. “Good morning, Detectives,” he cheerfully greeted them. “The Chief said I was to report in to you this morning.”

  Melba nodded and Sam stood to welcome both of new members of the team. “Why don’t you both pull up a chair and we can bring you up to speed?” he suggested. “One thing we do know about this case is we can use all of the help we can get.”

  The two men located a couple of empty chairs and started wheeling them over. Reightman got up from her seat to help Mitchell with a particularly difficult set of wheels right as Helliman stormed into the room.

  He was in uniform, but sans badge and service revolver, and he was carrying a packing box. Obviously the Chief had cut him loose, although she wasn’t sure if the leave was of a permanent nature. She, for one, hoped it was. When Helliman caught sight of her trying to shepherd the uncooperative chair into place, his face reddened and he headed toward her, crashing into the desks in his path.

  “You fucking bitch!” he yelled. “This is all your fucking fault, Reightman!”

  Jones moved to intercept the enraged cop as Melba stood bracing her feet, and readying herself for confrontation.

  “Just simmer down, Helliman.” Jones put a hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to calm him down.

  “Get out of my way, asshole!” Helliman pushed him out of the way with shoulder and elbow. “Mind your own fucking business, Jones.”

  Jackson came quickly forward to stand by her side and Mitchell moved the unruly chair out of the way to do the same. “Stand down, Helliman!” Jackson ordered.

  The red-faced cop halted about four feet from her. “Afraid to fight your own battles, Reightman?” he sneered. “You’re a stupid, fucking bitch and you should have left well enough alone.”

  “I was doing my job, Helliman, and I did it in spite of your interference.”

  Helliman started toward her again, but reconsidered when he saw Jackson and Mitchell begin to close ranks. He looked around at the crowd which had gathered and sensed the tension mounting in the room. A couple of cops had their hands on their revolvers, at ready. He licked his lips and leaned slightly forward. “If you did your job so well, Reightman," he hissed into her face, “where is Lieberman?” When Reightman didn’t respond to his taunt, he changed tactics. “You’ll be sorry, Reightman, you and your faggot friend. Some people are gonna’ be real pissed about this.” He wiped a little spittle from his lips and regarded her with pure hatred. “If you’re not real careful, you’ll end up just like that whore, Guzman.”

  Reightman stepped out from between Jackson and Mitchell, noticing that Jones had moved behind and to the right of Helliman. “Is that a threat?” Sh
e watched his hands tighten on the box he carried and saw the sweat break out on his forehead.

  He looked around, blinking small mean eyes. “Consider it a friendly warning.” Helliman glared at her once more and then turned and bumped past Jones. “I thought I told you to get out of my way, asshole!” He stomped to his desk past the circled bodies, flung a few things in the box and then closed the lid.

  He looked her way once more and his lips curved into a small hate-filled smile, before he picked up the box and headed for the hallway. He turned, and blew her a kiss. “Later,” he mouthed as he headed out of the room, followed a short distance away by Jones.

  She stared across the room until he was no longer in sight and then released the pent-up breath she had been holding. She heard Jackson call out, “Show’s over everyone. Get on back to work.”

  “You okay, Detective Reightman?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Mitchell.”

  “I was worried there for a minute.”

  “Helliman’s just a bully. He wasn’t going to do anything much with everyone watching.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

  Jones walked over to give them an update. “He’s left the building, Reightman. I saw him get into his car and pull out of the lot.”

  “Thanks.” She looked at the three faces eyeing her with concern. “Now, where were we?” She forced some confidence into her voice. “Oh yeah, before we were so rudely interrupted, we were just about to sit down and determine how we’re going to solve this case.” Following Jackson’s lead, they pulled up their chairs and got to work.

  “The most pressing issue seems to be the whereabouts of Lieberman. Any word yet, Jackson?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Jones, why don’t you take Mitchell and see if you can track down any word about where he might be holed up? Mitchell, follow his lead. I hear he’s a pretty good Detective when he is not being a smart ass.” Reightman grinned at Jones and continued, “See if you can run down any info about a vacation home or rental property Lieberman might have in the area.”

  Jones and Mitchell nodded. “Sure thing, Detective,” Jones winked at her and tossed the young cop a set of keys. “Come on, Mitchell, you drive.”

  “Jackson, did the search team uncover anything of interest from his residence?”

  “No. They said there’s nothing unusual in the house, although looked like he’d been there. His safe was open and his car was in the garage.”

  “Any material of a sensitive nature on his home computer?”

  “There wasn’t anything on it except for a few downloaded movies of the adult variety. There was nothing tied to the victim or the case. They’re going to spend time today going through all the files and emails just to make sure.”

  “I assume there’s already a trace out on credit cards as well as tracking in place for his phone.”

  “Yes, and the warrant for his arrest is out on the wire.”

  “Okay. I think we’ve done all we can about the good Doctor for the time being.” Reightman mentally ran through the other loose ends and then had an idea. “Sam, can you run a picture of Helliman down to Mr. Goldbleum at the pawnshop? See if he recognizes him as the buyer of the knife.”

  “Sure, Melba, but do you really think Helliman was involved?”

  She played out the different angles as she gathered up some things. “I don’t know, Sam. We know he’s a dirty cop, and he provided the tip-off to Lieberman. But to murder Guzman? I just can’t see it. Geraldo Guzman could have wiped the floor with him. Besides, whoever did it was way smarter than Helliman, given the fact there was so little evidence at the scene.”

  “Helliman may not be smart, Reightman, but he’s cunning. I saw the look in his eyes a minute ago. He was like a boar hog trying to find the best way out of the underbrush while staring down a dog.” Jackson hesitated and then added. “Melba, there may be others in on it.”

  She refused to meet his eyes as she continued sorting through the items on her desk.

  “Just think about it. What are the odds that Helliman would have teamed up with Lieberman on his own initiative?” As she started to interrupt he held out a finger and touched the side of his nose. “Don’t trust anyone and watch your back.”

  Not even you, Jackson?”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then saw the look on her face. “You can trust me.” Then more seriously, “You can probably trust the Chief and I think young Officer Mitchell and Detective Jones are okay. But I wouldn’t bet on anyone else.” He thought for a minute and, in an effort to lighten the mood, added, “And you can trust Nancy – even though she hates your guts right now.”

  Reightman was glad for the change of mood and for the reminder. “Oh damn! I forgot all about her snit yesterday. I guess I’d better take the Chief’s advice and pick up a present or something.”

  “I always knew you were a woman of uncommonly good sense.”

  “You can say that again, but, please don’t. I might get a big head.”

  Sam stood and patted his pockets to make sure he had his phone and his notebook before taking his jacket off of the back of his chair. “What’s on your agenda for the morning?” he asked.

  “I’m headed down to Capital Street to inform Toby Bailey we will not be releasing Guzman’s body as hoped. After that cheerful task, I thought I’d close the loop and stop into the one or two stores we haven’t hit yet and talk with the owners. That’s probably another dead end, but I might as well finish up the legwork.” She put a few more things in her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Once I get back, I am going to march downstairs to the morgue and introduce myself to the new acting coroner, assuming he or she gets here by then. While I’m making nice, I am going to throw myself on my knees and beg them to please finish up with Guzman. After all that, we’ll see.”

  “Don’t forget your shopping.”

  “Alright, Sam, I got the hint the first time.”

  “Seems like a light, restful day, Melba.”

  “Sam?”

  He held up his hands. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me to shut up.”

  Reightman shook her head. “No, not right now, anyway.” She looked up into his face. “I’m going to say thanks, for standing by my side when Helliman went berserk. It helped.”

  “’Twern’t nothing ma’am.” he touched two fingers to the imaginary brim of his equally imaginary hat. He looked at her seriously and added, “Just be careful, Melba. Please. I don’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you.”

  She felt a spot of suspicious moisture in the corner of her eye, and turned away slightly so he wouldn’t notice.

  “Besides,” he added, having seen her expression, “it would take forever to break in a new partner.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  Jackson gave her little salute and headed out to the pawnshop, whistling a really irritating tune under his breath.

  Thirty minutes later, Reightman pulled up in front of the Time Out Spa. She got out of her car with her ever present purse slung on her shoulder and tried the door to the spa. It was locked. The uniformed detail was no longer in place, having been pulled off to cover other things. She knocked and peered through the glass. After a few more attempts, she pulled out her phone and dialed Toby. The call went to straight to voice mail. She left a short message saying she’d either call or stop back by in an hour or so. After putting the phone back down into the purse, she started down the sidewalk and spotted Madame Zhou tottering across the street – jaywalking. Zhou Li reached her side of the street and stepped up over the curb.

  “Good morning, Detective,” she greeted Melba brightly. “What brings you down to Capital Street?”

  “Good morning, Madame Zhou. I was just in the area and thought I’d see if I could catch Mr. Bailey. He doesn’t seem to be here.”

  “He is probably off on a jog. Now that your plans have been delayed,
why don’t you come with me, Detective?’ Zhou suggested.

  “Where are you going? It seems too early for lunch.”

  “It is too early for lunch, Detective. I had a rather hearty breakfast anyway,” Zhou patted her stomach appreciatively. “I’m headed down to discover if Moon has anything wonderful in today. Why don’t you join me?”

  “You’re going to shop at Passed Around?” When Madame Zhou nodded that she was, Reightman decided to join her. “Why not? I was meaning to stop and talk with her this morning anyway.”

  “Since that’s the case, Detective, we will go together.”

  The two women made their way down the sidewalk until they were in front of the window to the shop. Zhou stopped to look at the window display, giving it her full attention. “Moon has such a flair for display! This window in really something, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Reightman looked at the window of mannequins, wearing what looked like a rainbow collection of poufy net prom dresses and augmented by a few more dressed in a collection of things only a group of especially slutty cowgirls would wear. “It’s really something,” she agreed.

  Zhou Li continued to peer through the window and soon, the shop door opened and a tall African-American woman glided out from the shop’s entrance. The woman’s skin was a luminous medium-dark tone, and was glowing in the sunlight. She was wearing a brightly colored print tunic over a pair of black leggings with flat ballet slippers. Her dark hair was cut asymmetrically, with one side just reaching her shoulders and the other hitting just at her jawline. The haircut perfectly accented the strong features of her face. She looked very edgy and very chic.

  “Madame Zhou! It is so good to see you!” she exclaimed in a pleasant contralto voice. “Don’t you just adore the window?”

  “It is perfect as always, my dear,” Madame Zhou agreed enthusiastically. “I think it will be just the ticket to bring them in.” Zhou Li remembered her manners. “Moon, I would like to introduce you to Detective Reightman. She is working to solve the horrible murder.”

  Moon quickly assumed a sad, tragic expression and brought a large, thin hand to her heart. “Oh, that poor, dear man. The world has lost one of its great wonders with his unfortunate passing. Toby must be grieving the deep, rending, never ending grief of a man for a former lover.”