On The Devil's Side of Heaven

by Roger Peppercorn

  Ronald took his gun out and pointed it at Tommy, “Don’t do it Tommy, or you’re a dead man.”

  Freeze had heard the door open but hadn’t been able to free himself in time to draw his own weapon. He righted himself and then turned to face Ronald. “What was it that gave me away?”

  “You made the mistake of casing my house in full view of a security camera.”

  “Yeah, but how did you know it was me?”

  “Phoenix wasn’t that long ago and besides, I never forget shitheads.”

  Freeze smirked and said, “Now what? You gonna clip me here in the john?”

  Ronald shook his head. “Can’t.”

  “You gone limp, dick? What, found God? Or are you just a pussy now?”

  “Made a promise, so you get to live for now.”

  “You're just gonna let me walk out of here alive?”

  “Depends on you.”

  “What’d you want?”

  “Name,” Ronald said flatly.

  “Can’t help you there,” Freeze said, his eyes moving off Ronald and onto the floor where the ex-cop lay in a heap.

  “Not a smart move. You’ll be dead before you even get close.”

  “Thought you weren’t going to kill me.”

  “Huh… my bad.” Then Ronald shot Tommy Bones in the right shoulder, his bullet creasing the brachial nerve. The silenced .22 made no sound against the backdrop of the bar.

  Freeze felt the bullet hit him and then his arm went limp and dangled uselessly. He reached up and grabbed his shoulder, and then cried out, “Fuck, that hurts.” His face contorted with the pain.

  “Your choice of what happens next,” Ronald said calmly.

  “Max.”

  Ronald nodded his head. Max had been on his list, so that part of the riddle was solved. “Your predecessor?”

  “Dix.”

  Ronald shook his head. “What’s his first name?”

  “Jimmy,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Ronald nodded his head. The name meant nothing, but he would find out later on in the day. He waved his gun towards Walt. “Instructions?”

  “You, the girl, and now him.”

  “Why those two and not just me?”

  “You have to ask? Fuck do I know?”

  He nodded again. “You’re out as of right now. Last pass you get. Next time, no warning.”

  “You know someone is going to replace me?”

  “Not your worry.” Then Ronald shot him again in the pelvic bone. The round hit the bone and then ricocheted downward and out through his hip.

  Freeze fell to the floor and cried out in pain. “You cocksucker, you’re going to pay for this.”

  Ronald made a show of looking at his watch. “You’re not bleeding badly right now, but I would suggest you hobble out through the back door and motor on down the road.”

  “I’m going to go into shock and die, you ass.”

  “You’ve got five minutes starting now, and then you’re all over the news.”

  Freeze struggled to his feet. His hands moved toward the gun.

  “Dump the gun and that boot knife on the floor now,” Ronald said, his eyes going opaque, his face flat and empty. In that moment, Tommy Bones knew he would die right here in that bathroom. He reached gingerly inside his coat and pulled out the gun and then the knife that was behind his back. Ronald’s eyes never wavered, his aim was steady and true.

  “Kick it under the stall.”

  Freeze did as he was told and then began to limp toward the door. Ronald eased to his right and out of arm's reach. The gun never left the spot between Tommy’s eyes.

  “I’ll be back to finish this,” Freeze said through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, you and the Terminator. I’m looking forward to it,” Ronald deadpanned.

  He made it to the door and eased it gently open.

  “Tommy?”

  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t worry about checking in, I’ll do it for you.”

  Freeze nodded and then shuffled gamely out the door.

  Chapter 22

  After Tommy was gone, Ronald stepped over Walter, turned to face the door and leaned down to check on his friend. He kept his gun trained on the door in case Tommy had a backup piece and tried to surprise him. Ronald checked his pulse and then pulled open his eyes to check for bleeding or other indications he was seriously hurt. Finding none, he stood up and stepped back over Walter, careful to avoid the blood splatter on the floor.

  He took out his gloves and put them on to open the door. He checked carefully to see if anyone was coming and if there were any CCTV cameras trained in on the back hallway. Satisfied, he then stepped out into the hallway. Watching for anyone approaching, he reached back and wiped the bathroom door handle clean. He felt a twinge of guilt for what had just happened. It was a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to. Then he proceeded outside, where he again checked for prying eyes, electronic and otherwise, before leaving and wiping the outside door handle. There was enough evidence to point the finger at Tommy so he was confident he wouldn’t immediately fall under suspicion, but it was only a matter of time before the law would come and visit him. The bullet wound in Tommy might very well kill him, but he doubted it. Tommy was very good and would probably find a way to escape undetected. If not, he would have to deal with it when the time came.

  For now, he needed to get home and await the call from either Marcie or Walter. It wouldn’t do him any good if his presence was discovered and Ronald knew time was against him at the moment. It would be seconds to a handful of minutes before Walter was discovered on the floor of the bathroom. After that, there would be cops and EMTs followed closely by the media racing to Tony’s.

  He walked casually back to his car, keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets. Ronald wasn’t concerned about anyone recognizing him. The ball cap and oversized coat concealed his true features, and the fake beard completed the disguise. Ronald would keep them on until he was clear of town. After that, the disguise, car, and gun would all have to be disposed of. There was a storage facility located along the highway that would take him home. There, he would ditch everything and take another clean vehicle home. The safe house had a garage that for now would hide the other clean car he had. The plates for both vehicles were stolen, so there would be little chance of them tracing either car back to him. Plus the storage facility didn’t have a video surveillance system. His odds of getting all the way home without anyone seeing him were pretty good, but there was still a risk that a witness could ID him later on.

  Ronald made it to the car and a full two blocks before he heard the first siren. He smiled into the darkness. The hard part was behind him. Now all he had to do was make it far enough away, so that when he was notified the cell tower would report his phone close to his house.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Ronald parked the car he had been driving and got in his truck. He had just pulled to the top of the hill near his house when he took his phone out and turned it on. As soon as it booted up, it began to ring. He checked the caller ID and saw it was Marcie. Ronald pulled to a stop and answered the phone.

  “Hello,” Ronald said.

  “Ronald, it’s Marcie.”

  “Marcie, aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now? Don’t tell me he’s so boring you need to be rescued.”

  “Ronald, there’s been an incident, Walter was attacked. Someone tried to kill him.”

  Ronald took a second before he responded. He wanted to make sure his tone was just right so as not to arouse suspicion. “Is he alright? Are you alright? What do you mean someone tried to kill him?”

  “I’m fine, but Walter is being taken to the ER in Fruita. He’s alive and that’s about all I know right now. Could you come into town? There are a lot of questions we have and since he’s been staying with you, I was hoping you could help us out.”

  “Jesus, someone really tried to kill him? I mean, how do you kill someone
in a restaurant?”

  “Right now, it looks like someone tried to garrote him. How he fought them off I don’t know, but there’s a lot of blood.”

  “There were two of them?” He said with real concern. Ronald knew they would figure out there was someone else in the bathroom when they found the blood and the bullet. He just didn’t figure they would get there this fast. He had counted on the Fruita PD being less than stellar when it came to homicide.

  “No, I mean, I don’t know. What makes you say there were two of them?”

  Ronald thought he had given himself away, but then he remembered she had said “them,” as in more than one. “You said them so I just thought… you know, it had to be more than one.”

  “Oh, sorry, no I don’t think so, it’s just words. Oh Ronald, it’s just horrible. He’s got this big lump on his forehead and he’s not making any sense. Could you please hurry and get here?”

  “Yeah, I’m on my way and I’m sure he’s alright. I’ll throw some clothes on and be there as soon as I can. Keep me posted, okay?”

  “Sure, just hurry.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Then Ronald disconnected the call and breathed a sigh of relief. He thought he had stumbled but now was pretty sure his alibi was intact. He gunned the car and hurried the rest of the way home.

  ***

  I felt like someone had hit me with a jackhammer. My head throbbed, my stomach was woozy and I was seeing three of everything, not to mention my left hand felt like someone had tried to remove it using the Jaws of Life. I thought staying sober would save me from this kind of thing. If I would have known it wouldn’t, I never would have put the stopper in the bottle.

  The paramedic that was tending to me kept insisting I stare at his finger. Problem was, I wasn’t sure which one I was supposed to be concentrating on. Marcie stood by my side and kept rubbing my shoulder. There were cops all over the place and I was covered in blood.

  I had thought it was mine but after the cops and EMT’s looked me over, they determined the blood belonged to someone else. My thoughts kept going back to the professor who I had seen earlier. I was pretty sure it was his blood I was covered in, which begged the question where was the kindly professor who had t-boned my head into the urinal? Better still, how had I fought him off? The last thing I remembered was sitting in front of Marcie.

  The cops kept asking me questions, but in my current state, I did an admiral job of looking like a befuddled child who wasn’t sure what one plus one equaled. I needed to talk to Ronald but right now, the only thing I could think about was the mule that was kicking the inside of my head.

  I’ve been hit in the head before so this wasn’t anything new, but the large amount of pain was. I heard the paramedic say I had concussion, which was strange as I knew I was supposed to know what that meant, but I couldn’t summon the beta waves across my frontal lobe long enough to pull that particular word from my memory banks.

  Finally, I was placed on a gurney, which meant the third degree was over for now. As I was being carted off, Marcie insisted she ride along with me. I was glad for the company, but somehow I knew I needed to keep quiet. My mother’s voice kept whispering to me: “I’ve never gotten into trouble for keeping my mouth shut.” She would be proud of me right now because that’s what I decided to do.

  I really wanted to sleep, but the nosey EMT kept telling me to stay awake. Marcie kept looking at me like I might just shuffle off this mortal coil any second from now, which only made my head hurt worse. The ride to the urgent care clinic was a short one, which I was thankful for. The ambulance driver seemed to think my injury gave him license to treat the road like it was his own personal Indy race track.

  They took me straight to the ER, where I was put on all kinds of machines to monitor my vitals. When I was a cop I had brought lots of people to the ER who had been hurt, but until now I hadn’t appreciated how they must have felt. The doctor came in shortly after the nurse hooked me up.

  He was tall and harried looking. His hair had surrendered and was in full retreat. The coat he wore was the standard stark white that they all wore and his doctor pajamas had creases in the legs from a hot iron. His gaze was stern and no-nonsense. Sadly, he had the beak of a falcon which I had a tough time not staring at. Part of me wanted to laugh at it and another part wanted to cry. It must have been either the drugs that were pumping through my system or the ringing bells behind my eyes.

  “Says here you were hit in the head, is that right?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me, you’re the one with the chart in his hand.”

  He wasn’t amused and proved it by closing the chart. “We're going to take some x-rays and run some tests to make sure nothing else is wrong with you. How do you feel?”

  “Like I was t-boned by a toilet stall.”

  This detail must not have made it into the chart because he flipped it open and reread what he had just got through reading. My confidence wasn’t buoyed at this point.

  “Mr. Walker, you most probably have suffered a concussion but we’ll make sure nothing else is wrong with you, okay?”

  “Does this mean I’m on injured reserve and can’t go back in the game, doc? I mean, I know there are concussion protocols, but I swear I can still play. Put me back in the game coach, I’m right as rain.”

  He turned to Marcie. “The nurse will be right in and after that, we’ll take him down the hall for some x-rays and if necessary, we’ll transport him to Junction for a CT scan.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” she said.

  Dr. No Humor scowled at me, then left.

  Marcie turned to me and said, “What’s wrong with you? He’s just trying to help.”

  “Yeah I know, but my head’s not working. Blame it on the concussion.”

  “Well, your mouth seems to be working just fine.”

  “That’s nothing, you should see my tongue in action.”

  “Not anytime soon, you keep acting like a jackass.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Walter, do you remember anything?”

  I blew out my breath. “No, the last thing I remember is sitting across from you in the restaurant. How long was I out?”

  “I don’t know… ten, maybe fifteen minutes, give or take.”

  “Who found me?”

  “A local kid named Collin Winter.”

  “Must have been a real treat for him to find an old guy on the bathroom floor covered in blood.”

  She laughed a little which in turn made me smile. “He had the most girlish scream,” she said.

  Now it was my turn to chuckle, which was a mistake because I started to cough. I put my hand up to cover my mouth and then noticed the bandage on my hand. “What happened to my hand?”

  Marcie stopped laughing and then turned serious. “Whoever tried to kill you used a garrote. Somehow you got your hand up in time to stop him.”

  I saw myself sneeze and then remembered the feeling of something cutting into my hand. Marcie noticed my look and asked, “What is it?”

  “I sneezed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I just saw it. I was standing there taking a leak when I had to sneeze. Next thing I knew, my hand was hurting.”

  “Then what?”

  I thought about it for a minute, but nothing else came to me. I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  She looked at me with concern. “I need to call Gina and tell her I’m going to be late. Be right back, okay?”

  I nodded and then she got up and walked out to the lobby to make her call. As soon as she left, the nurse came back to take me to x-ray. She pulled the rails up on the bed and had me lie back for the ride down the hall. For the next few minutes, I tried to remember what had happened but got nothing for my efforts.

  The next hour or so blurred by and I must confess, I zoned in and out of cohesive thought. Dr. No Humor came and went, as did the good-looking nurse who I’m pretty sure struggled to keep her clothes on in my presence. The
nurse who looked like an overfed dwarf in a Broom Hilda cartoon managed to stay around a lot longer. Thankfully, she didn’t feel the need to undress. Or maybe it was just me.

  Somewhere in there, Marcie wandered in and out. I heard her mention Ronald’s name but other than that, I don’t remember the particulars of what was said or much of the details about anything else. Somewhere during that time, rumblings about an overnight observation were bandied about, at which time I lost hope of Marcie administering any good tidings at my bedside.

  After all the tests were run, they rolled my bed up to an empty room. There was a cop standing by the door, the reason for which was never fully explained to me. I’m not sure how much time passed before I was finally allowed to sleep.

  I dreamed that night that I was in a large classroom with no one else but me in it. The chalkboard in front of me had words written all over it. My eyes, however, could never quite come into focus long enough for me to read them. An older man who looked like a teacher wandered in. He wore a tweed jacket and had small spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. I felt fear but didn’t know why. He had something in his hands. It looked like a shiny jump rope with handles made of wood. I smiled and tried to speak, but my mouth couldn’t form the words. My neck felt wet and when I reached up to dry it off, my hands came away with red paint.

  Later, I dreamed that Thomas and Cassie were still babies. They cried and reached out to me but when I reached back out to them, my hands were wrapped in cellophane, making it impossible for me to pick them up and hold them.

  When I finally woke up, there was light streaming in through the windows. The machine that monitored my breathing and heartbeat hummed along quietly. I sat up in bed and looked over the side for a way to put the rails down. My left hand was wrapped, which made it more difficult to affect my escape from the bed. Finally, I gave up and flopped back down. My mind wandered back to last night. Some of the details were starting to come back to me. I could see the professor drive past me and then later, I remembered seeing him in the restaurant.