Done Rubbed Out

by Jeffery Craig

“Was there anything else in the lockbox?” Reightman asked.

  Toby bent down and pulled another sealed envelope from his satchel. “Just this.”

  She took the envelope from him and felt the items inside.

  “I think one of the things in there is a safety deposit box key,” Toby said as she carefully pulled open the flap. “I think it is probably for the box that we shared and where we kept our birth certificates, and the original papers for the business, and a few other important documents. I don’t know what the other thing is.”

  After the flap had been pulled open, Reightman looked inside and then carefully tilted the envelope over the desk and gently shook it. The key hit the desk and was followed by the other item. “This looks like the earring Mr. Guzman was wearing the night he was killed.” The large diamond reflected the light in the office as it sat on the desk.

  “But I already have that! This can’t be the same one,” Toby said as he started to reach for it.

  “Don’t touch it!” Reightman commanded sharply. Toby slowly withdrew his hand, and she explained, “It may have evidence on it and I don’t want to chance contaminating it.”

  She gently used the end of a pencil to herd it back into the envelope. “Is this your safety deposit box key?”

  Toby stood and came around the desk, stepping between the two Detectives in the chairs. He leaned in to look at it, keeping his hands well away from it as it lay on the desk. After recognizing the small numbers, he stood and said, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is.”

  Reightman pushed it into the envelope with the end of the pencil and then tore of a piece of tape from the dispenser on the desk. She sealed down the flap and placed the envelope on top of the ledger.

  “What now, Reightman?” her partner asked as soon as she was finished.

  “Now I am going to call Chief Kelly. Those photos just moved all of this way above my pay grade.”

  ♦♦♦

  John Brown continued to watch the entrance to the spa, occasionally checking the time on his phone. Helliman was nodding off in the driver’s seat and once he had started to snore, John Brown jostled his shoulder to wake him up. "Helliman, you need to stay alert!” he hissed.

  Helliman jolted upright. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “What’s happening?” he asked after a minute.

  “Nothing yet, but they’ve been in there a long time. We need to be ready.” He picked up the mask and pulled it carefully over his head and then tugged it into place, arranging it until the eye holes and mouth opening were properly aligned.

  “That’s going to be hot as hell.”

  John Brown shrugged and didn’t bother to comment.

  ♦♦♦

  Reightman shoved her phone back into her pocket. “I went right to voicemail,” she said with evident frustration.

  “You’re not going to leave a message?” Jackson asked.

  “No, I want to talk with him directly. He’s been avoiding me the last few days and if he still is, he might not even listen to it. I’ll try again later. If that fails, we’ll just camp out by his office in the morning.” She ran her fingers through her hair and then stretched to relieve the tension building in her neck and shoulders. “Let’s take these and get out of here. Tomorrow’s going to be a doozy and we need to try and get some rest.” She stood and reached for the items on the desk, but before she could pick them up, Toby laid his hand on them.

  “I don’t think so,” he said firmly.

  “But, Mr. Bailey…Toby…I’m going to need them to show Chief Kelly.”

  He softened for a minute at the use of his first name, but just when Reightman thought he was going to agree, he shook his head. “No.” She looked at him in disbelief. “No,” he said again firmly, before she could try and argue with him. “I’m not letting them out of my possession. I’ll keep them and bring them down tomorrow.” He picked them up, making it clear his position was non-negotiable.

  “That’s just stupid! They’ll be much safer in police custody.”

  “Like Geri was safer in the morgue, Detective?” He focused his blue eyes on her and drove home his point. “The same morgue where some sick, obsessed city official sliced the foreskin from his penis? Or did you mean safe, like the jewelry he was wearing was safe, before it was misplaced and couldn’t be found?”

  “But, that was all Lieberman –”

  “And Lieberman had inside help.” Jackson reminded her regretfully. When Reightman turned her shocked face to him he continued. “Those things might be safer with us and I think they would be. But you have to agree Mr. Bailey makes a good point. He’s kept those items for this long and a few more hours won’t matter.” The photos he’d viewed along with the ledger entries made him very uncomfortable. “Some really important and powerful people are going to be dragged into this, and they’re going to do everything they can to prevent, or at least delay, any of this from seeing the light of day. All things considered, I think the best thing would be for Mr. Bailey to turn these in – very officially and very publically – tomorrow, with his attorney present.“ Jackson took a minute to enjoy the thought of how well that was going to play down at headquarters. “With Madame Zhou involved, it’s going to be more difficult for someone up top to let things slip, and it’d be much more noticeable if something in that folder was accidentally misplaced.”

  She considered who his definition of someone up top included. “Jackson, surely you don’t think the Chief would…?”

  “I don’t know Reightman. I didn’t think he’d rush the announcement that this murder had been solved, and I didn’t think he’d agree so quickly with the verdict Lieberman offed himself without letting us dig around some more.” He held her eyes and she read the disappointment he felt in his. “The Chief I thought I knew wouldn’t have acted that way, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have made a public announcement without being doubly sure all the loose ends were tied up. But he did, Reightman. He did.”

  Reightman ran her hands through her hair again, and rotated her neck a couple of times while she thought. “Toby, do you have a safe place to put this stuff until tomorrow?”

  “I could put them back where I found them – back in the lockbox.”

  Jackson looked up at him in approval, a slow smile spreading over his face. He looked at his partner. “I told you he was turning out to be interesting.” He turned back to Toby with a suggestion. “Why don’t we escort you to that lockbox and make sure everything gets tucked in where it can spend the night, all safe and sound? You can stop by and get it when you and Madame Zhou come to the station in the morning.”

  “Alright,” Toby agreed.

  “Let’s get the show on the road then,” Reightman suggested. “Put those things into something secure until we can get them locked up.”

  Toby picked up the satchel and stuffed the items back in, and secured it by draping the bag across his body. Reightman opened the door and let the others precede her. She turned off the office lights and pulled the door behind her.

  Toby locked the front door and the three of them stepped out onto the sidewalk. As she looked up and down the street she noticed they had company. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  Jackson looked across the street toward the small red sedan and groaned. “I should have known Mitchell couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

  “You two stay here – I’ll be right back.” They watched as she hurried across the street and pounded on the driver’s side window. “Get out of the car, Mitchell.”

  The young cop jerked awake, startled and disoriented. When her words registered in his foggy brain, he opened the door and stepped out.

  “Now!” John Brown commanded. “And make it fast! Get me as close to the kid as possible.”

  Helliman quickly pulled away from the parking space as the other man rolled down the window.

  “I thought I told you to go home, Mitchell!” Reightman stepped up into his face. “Did you think it was just a polite suggestion?” she asked, reaching out to shake
his arm. Mitchell dropped the keys he was holding and crouched down to pick them up. Behind her, Reightman heard a large engine revving.

  She turned and saw a glaring set of bright headlights headed in their direction – tires squalling as the vehicle picked up speed. She shielded her eyes from the unexpected brightness, trying to regain her vision. She blinked and squinted across the street to where Jackson and Toby were standing and noticed them stepping away from the building to see what was causing the noise.

  “Hold it as steady as you can, Helliman!” John Brown shouted as he reached out of the open window and sighted down the barrel of the gun.

  Reightman saw the arm and screamed across the street “Sam! He’s got a gun!” She reached to her side and realized that her weapon was still locked in the trunk of her car.

  She knew the moment Sam made sense of her shouted warning. He reached for his own gun and turned to Toby. “Get down!” he shouted, pushing Toby to the ground. Reightman saw a series of bright flashes from the pick-up window and heard the loud, deafening sound of gunshots. She watched in disbelief as – in slow horrifying motion – Sam grabbed his chest and looked down to where he’d been hit. His right arm jerked twice, and she saw his hand open and his gun drop to the pink, stained sidewalk. The truck’s tires squealed again and she turned in time to see it headed directly toward her and Mitchell. He tackled her and carried her to the ground.

  “Get off me!” she screamed as the truck zoomed dangerously close and then sped away. She dragged herself up off the ground, using the side of the truck for support. “I’ve got to get to Sam!” She ran across the street, shouting over her shoulder, “Call it in, Mitchell! Call it in! Tell them to hurry – Sam’s been hit!”

  She heard him shout into the phone as she ran: “Officer down! I repeat officer down!”

  Reightman ignored the swelling of her knee and propelled herself up the curb, where Toby had propped Sam up. He was frantically trying to do something about the blood already soaking the front of Jackson’s shirt. Toby tore off his own shirt and ripped open the buttons of Sam’s. He frantically pressed the balled-up fabric to the wound on Sam’s chest. Reightman knelt down and pushed Toby’s hand aside. “Let me see!” she demanded. Toby lifted the cloth and she saw blood gush from Sam’s chest. “Put it back and keep applying pressure!” She positioned herself along Sam’s side to support his head and shoulders.

  “Stay with me, Sam!” she ordered the terribly wounded man, as she cradled him with her arm. “Look at me, dammit!”

  Jackson tried to focus on her face, fighting against the pain and shock. “Melba…” he groaned.

  “That’s right, Sam,” she told him. “It’s Melba and I’ve got you – just hold on. I hear the sirens now. Help is coming.”

  No…” he gasped weakly, and she saw his eyes start to droop again. He struggled to force them open. “Tell Alice……I ….love her….”

  “You can tell your wife your own damned self, Jackson!” Then gently – insistently, she crooned, “You’re going to be fine – they’ll fix you right up, Jackson –you’ll see. Just hang in here with me a little longer… I’ve got you, Sam – you hear me? I’ve got you.” She held him, talking the whole time. She felt him spasm and fear rose up within her and then ran down her spine. She looked into his face and whispered to him desperately “Hang on, Sam. Don’t you dare give up on me!”

  She was vaguely aware of the ambulance pulling up behind her and the shouts of the first responders as they jumped from its cab. She heard the back doors open and the crash cart hit the ground.

  “Melba…” the man she held said, so weakly she had to strain to hear him. “Get the…….bastards…….”

  She saw a tear hit his cheek before she realized she was crying. Before she could reassure him, his eyes glazed over…. and she felt herself falling from a great height. Then abruptly her soul hit the ground and she was being pushed out of the way by the EMS team.

  “No!” she screamed with great, terrible hurt and helpless terror. “I have to stay! I have to help him!”

  “Get out of the way, ma’am, so we can do our job!”

  She barely registered the presence of Mitchell and Toby as they half-dragged, half-carried her away.

  “Let me go!” she screamed. “Please...” she pleaded as she fought against the arms holding her with everything she had inside. “Damn you to hell!” she fought. “I said let me gooooooo…" Her painful heartrending wail was cut off as Toby slapped her, open handed across the face. Her head snapped back and she screamed again and desperately kicked out at the two men holding her.

  He slapped her again.

  She shook her head in surprised shock and blinked her eyes a few times, noticing the bright glare of whirling red and neon blue lights surrounding her. In the distance she could see the crash cart team step away from the body and shake their heads. “Oh, Sam……….” she cried, the sound grinding low and mournful in the back of her throat. “Oh, Sam…….” She felt her wounded leg start to give and she sagged against Mitchell. He held her tightly against his chest. “Shhhhh…..” He held her while the sobs racked her body. “Let it go,” he told her. “Let it go….”

  ♦♦♦

  As the truck careened around the corner John Brown pulled of his black mask and jammed it into the bag at his feet. “Take the back streets and head north. I’ll tell you when to pull over.”

  Helliman’s hands gripped the wheel tightly and were white across the knuckles to match his pale face and he started to laugh hysterically. “Toby Bailey’s been done rubbed out! That’ll teach the cocksucker!” After another pleased shout of triumph, he recalled how terrified he’d been. He cast a nervous glance to the man next to him. “I didn’t think it would be like that. It was kinda’ out of control.”

  “Shit happens,” John Brown said as he reloaded the gun.

  “You’re expecting them to catch up to us, aren’t you?” Helliman asked, worried for the first time of the night.

  “You just never know.” A couple of blocks later, John Brown instructed his driver to make a left, and then to take the next right. “Pull over here.”

  “I can take you on over to your vehicle,” Helliman offered, not wanting to be left alone yet. “It’s just a couple of blocks from here.”

  “Thanks, but this is fine.” When the truck eased to a stop by the curb and Helliman put it in park, John Brown gathered up his bag and opened his door.

  “What I’m I supposed to do now?” Helliman asked uncertainly, turning to face John Brown as he stood outside the opened passenger door “What if they find me?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” John Brown assured him. “I think the best thing for you to do right now would be to just …take a nap.”

  “What do you –?”

  John Brown raised the gun in his hand and fired once. The bullet only made a small hole in the front of Helliman’s forehead, but it did break the glass of the driver’s side window as it exited the back of his head.

  John Brown looked around to see if the shot had caught the attention of anyone in the area. Then he opened the black bag and took out the dark cotton mask and a small spray bottle of cleaning solution. He sprayed the cloth and wiped down every surface he’d been in contact with on his side of the truck. Wrapping the cloth around his hand, he reached over and turned off the truck with the key in the ignition switch and closed the passenger-side door. He dropped the cloth and the bottle back into his bag. As he started down the street he could hear the sirens in the background.

  ♦♦♦

  Mitchell held Reightman for what seemed like a very long while she cried herself out, and he felt her stiffen against him. “Mitchell….” Her voice was very small and sad. “Let go of me – please.”

  Mitchell cautiously loosened his arms, ready to hold tight again if she lost control. When she didn’t, he slowly released her and dropped them to his side. Reightman roughly rubbed the tears from her face and then stepped away. She turned and
slowly hobbled to the gurney where Sam was lying, stumbling on the first couple of wobbly steps. She looked down at the man who’d stood by her side for so many years, and she reached out and gently touched his face.

  She traced his face with trembling fingers and then pulled her hand away to place it over her heart. “I’ll get the bastards,” she promised his white and still face.

  She forced her swollen knee to obey her, and walked by his side as they wheeled him to the emergency van, and then stood silently a few feet away, watching with dead eyes as they loaded him in the back. She turned around and dully observed as Toby Bailey’s arm was cleaned and then bandaged. She realized he’d been hit as well, although it looked as if it was just a graze.

  Mitchell stepped up beside her. “Detective, I saw the driver.” Her eyes drilled his face. “It was Helliman.” He flinched at the look on her face, and knew the crooked ex-cop would never survive if she found him.

  “And the shooter?” she asked, in the coldest and most terrible voice he'd ever heard in his life.

  Mitchell shook his head. “I couldn’t tell. It looked like he was wearing some kind of mask.”

  She didn’t respond, but her eyes were dark and thoughtful in her face.

  “They’ve got a couple of teams out there trying to track him down. They’ll find them, Detective.”

  “If they don’t, I will.” Reightman promised, grimly.

  A couple of uniformed cops came over to where they stood. “Ma’am,” the taller of the two said, in a voice which almost disguised his own sorrow. “I’m sorry, but I need to get your statement.” He looked toward Mitchell. “And yours too, Mitchell.”

  Reightman started to follow waiting cop to the relative isolation of the patrol car’s backseat, but stopped. “Officer Mitchell has something he needs to do first.” When the officer started to argue, she snapped at him. “Don’t make me pull rank.” She felt her eyes starting to fill again. “Please, not tonight…” she almost pleaded as she brushed new tears from red rimmed eyes. “Mitchell, come with me. I need you to do something.” She led him to Toby Bailey and said through her tears, “Mitchell will take you to finish the errand we started….before…….”