On The Devil's Side of Heaven

by Roger Peppercorn

  “They had some interesting things to say about you. But mostly they wanted to talk about Ronald.”

  Rickets! “Well, who doesn’t want to talk about Ronald?”

  “Care to fill in some of the blanks in the story they told me?”

  “How about you tell me the story and I’ll see about throwing some dirt in the holes.”

  “That’s the sad part, Walt. All they’d tell me was you were fired under a cloud of suspicion and Ronald has a history of many colors that is full of large stretches of unaccounted for time.”

  I shook my head and said, “The thing is Paul, my shovel can’t really fill holes that big at the moment.” My head nodded towards Suzie.

  He nodded his understanding and then signaled to Marcie to hand me my clothes.

  I took them in my good hand and set them on the bedside table in front of me. “Suzie, I appreciate all your hard work and attention to detail, but I think it’s wrapped up good enough, don’t you?”

  She stopped and looked up at me, then her shoulders sagged a little. “You’re going to undo all my hard work, aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  She stopped what she was doing and then stood up to leave. When she got to the door, Suzie turned back and said, “Try and keep at least one turn of the wrap on your hand. If not, then make sure the butterfly bandages are overlapped. Try and keep the bending of your hand into a fist to a minimum for at least a couple of days, otherwise your hand isn’t going to heal properly.” Then she was gone.

  After the door was closed, Paul looked at me. “If you ever want to see daylight again, you better be straight with me.”

  “Paul, all I can tell is that someone from my past followed me here and has decided to even a score. That’s all I can really tell you because that’s all I really know.”

  He looked at me for a long time. His eyes probed mine. I could see he was looking for signs of deception and I did my best to stare back at him without any guilt or reservations. There is this myth about people who won’t look at you when they are talking to you. It’s supposed to signal guilt or lying. But any cop who has been on the job longer than a day will tell you this is hogwash. Some people don’t have the ability to look someone in the eye. Others can never break eye contact and lie right to your face with the conviction of the Pope at Sunday Mass. But that doesn’t mean some cops won’t completely buy into the myth. I wasn’t sure what kind of cop Paul was or for that matter, Marcie. She was watching this exchange, so my act was now as much for her as it was for Paul.

  Paul shook his head and then said, “If I was in your shoes, nobody could stop me from chasing this down, and I’m assuming you’re like me in that respect. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.” He reached into his back pocket and took out what looked like a leather wallet. Paul tossed it over to me. I caught it in my good hand and then opened it up. Inside was an FPD badge. My heart skipped a beat. The last time I had been a sworn cop was so long ago, it was as if it had happened in a dream. My head raised and my eyes met his. I nodded my thanks and in return, he said, “In the bag that Officer Reynolds is carrying, you’ll find a standard police issue Berretta 9 mm, two clips and a set of cuffs.”

  My eyebrows shot up in question.

  “Don’t get any ideas here, Walker. I’m only doing this so that if anyone takes another run at you, you’re somewhat legit.”

  “A concealed permit would be just as easy.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. You’re not a resident so that dog won’t hunt if you kill someone. But if you’re a member of this department, then that at least gives you some status.”

  “What about the city council or the Mayor?” I asked.

  “I really only answer to the Mayor. The city council is pretty weak and is very pliable. We talked after the FBI stopped by. He’s just as pissed as I am at the way the Feds have treated us, plus he‘s a real nut when it comes to the second amendment. Just do me a favor and don’t make me regret this.”

  “Hey, does this come with pay and benefits?”

  “Walt, don’t make me take it back.”

  “Thanks Paul, it means a lot.”

  “One other thing. Marcie here is going to tag along until this is over with. Do me a favor and don’t get her killed or wounded.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s clean.”

  He nodded and then stood up. “Well then, I have to get back to the station. I assume you’re checking yourself out of here?”

  “Just as soon as I get dressed.”

  “Officer Reynolds, you’ll keep me apprised of any developments in the case?”

  “Yes, sir,” Marcie said.

  Paul turned and started for the door. He paused just before he opened it and said, “I’m going to regret this. I can feel it in my bones.” Then he left.

  “So, partner, where do we start?” Marcie asked me.

  “Well, first I change and then if it’s okay with you, I thought you could take me back to your place and I’ll take a quick shower.”

  “What’s wrong with the shower here?”

  I leered at her and said, “Well, for starters, it’s not your shower and I doubt it will fit two people in it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Men.”

  “Try and respect my privacy while I change partner,” I said.

  “I’ll do you one better. Meet me out front. I’ll go and get the car.”

  After she left, I used the hospital phone to call Ronald but it went straight to voicemail. I put the phone down and wondered what he was up to. There was very little doubt that whoever Ronald was meeting would be lying in wait for him. My only hope was he would be calm enough to realize it. Either way, after I was outside and on the move, my plan was really no different than his – seek out whoever was behind the attempted assassinations and bring them down. The difference being that I would be putting them in cuffs and Ronald would be fitting them for toe tags.

  As soon as the door closed, I opened the bag, took out the gun and checked it. The clip in the gun and the two spares were empty, so he wasn’t kidding about this just being for show. He knew that I could get bullets, but if I was involved in a shootout and used bullets that weren’t given to me by the department, things were going to be a bit more complicated.

  So the gun was for show and the badge gave me some credibility with any civilians whom I ran across. Marcie would serve as my beard if I needed any information verified. All in all, I couldn’t complain too loudly. After all, Paul had gone out on a limb just giving me the badge, let alone the gun. What I didn’t have was an ID card to go with the badge, but I probably wouldn’t need it and if I did… well, there were a host of other problems I was going to have to deal with.

  Dumping the clothes out on the bed, I looked over what Ronald had sent. By looking at the clothes on the bed, it was obvious that Ronald hadn’t put any thought into it. The jeans and button-down flannel were part of the items I had picked up a few days ago. However, he hadn’t sent along any underwear, socks or undershirt. This meant I needed to swing by Valley Market on our way out to her place. Ronald did remember to throw in a belt and my other pair of boots though, so not all was lost.

  The badge and the gun were on the bed, staring back at me. I picked up the gun and the belt holster it was in and put it on my right hip. The badge I flipped open and fixed on my belt for the entire world to see. For the first time in many years, I both looked and felt like a cop. I walked over to the window and looked at myself in the reflection. The man staring back at me was a stranger. My face, although tanned, showed signs of wear and tear. The whiskers on my cheeks and the handful of stitches on my forehead gave me a toughened veneer that I knew was counterfeit. I could see the gun and the badge prominently displayed, but instead of pride I only felt shame and disgust. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t a cop, at least not anymore. Both of them used to be part of my identity, but now their images mocked my own reflection.

  The shame and humiliation flared crimson red across my cheeks an
d in my soulless eyes. Reaching down, I plucked both of them off my belt and then tossed them in the grocery bag. Turning toward the door, I headed out into the hallway and then made my way over to the elevator. You’re supposed to check out of these places, but the reflection in the window was all the failure I could endure.

  Paul had said he knew I would pursue my attacker and at the time I shared his sentiment, but all I wanted to do was dig a hole and then pour myself into it. Now more than ever, I needed a drink. No, what I needed now was the clean, clear crystal glass with three cubes of ice. I yearned to hear it bounce off the glass and to watch the barman pour four fingers of pure brown liquid over the ice. Bury my nose over the top of the glass and inhale the sweet nectar that whiskey or scotch gives off when it’s still fresh from the bottle. I wanted to hear the sizzle of carbonation that a splash of coke makes when it meets those four frozen soldiers.

  I needed to wet my bottom lip just before I took my first drink, and then feel the burn it made when the liquor passed over my tongue and slid down my gullet. The sensation the booze gave me when it began to digest. Feeling the booze start to take up residence behind my eyes and the easy freeness I got when my thoughts became liberated.

  The hell with Ronald and Jessica and all the problems they had wrought upon my life in the last week. No fuck that, they had been a constant sore spot for years. Ronald and all his self-righteous bullshit and my sister’s feigned innocence about all that he had done. Shit, while I’m at it, fuck Lori and the Earl of Dentistry himself. Take my kids and tell the judge I’m the fucking problem? Hell, my kids didn’t know how good they had it when I was around. That pencil dick Lori married? I should have grabbed him by the coattails and taken him for a spin down Fag Road. Show my bitchy ex-wife what a horn-blowing cocksucker he was.

  I had managed to work myself into quite a lather by the time I made it down to the lobby, so I was surprised to see a news crew waiting by the doors. I wasn’t sure if they were waiting for me or not, but decided not to take the risk. Turning to my right, I made my way over to a door that empties out onto Kokopelli Blvd. I looked around for a cab and forgot for a moment where I was.

  Other than the news crew, who didn’t seem to be looking for anyone in particular, Marcie was the only other living soul outside. I hesitated for a minute. My blood was still on fire and the need for a drink was stronger than it had ever been, but there sat Marcie, looking as pure and innocent as ever. My need for booze abated just enough for me to get a handle on it as I made my way over to the passenger side door.

  After I had buckled myself in, I realized she was looking at me expectantly. “I miss something?” I grumbled.

  She cocked her head slightly and said, “What’s wrong?”

  I fidgeted with my hands as I tried to get a handle on my thirst for booze. “Nothing,” I said.

  “Something happen after I left?”

  I don’t know why I did it, but I turned to her and in a long, dejected stream of obscenities, spewed forth all of the half-baked ideas and uncontrollable rage that alcoholics harbor towards the world. When I was through, I told her everything. I didn’t hold anything back, including Ronald and all his bullshit.

  At first she was shocked and then she was disgusted. Then, after a while, she was embarrassed at the level of depravity that lived inside of me. I expected her to throw her cuffs on me and haul my sorry ass in. At the very least, ask me to get out of the car. But she did none of those things. Instead, she took it all in, processed it, and then after her face became wrinkled at what I can only hope was moral indecision, she looked at me with the eyes of an innocent doe and said, “You still need that drink? Because I can put up with a lot but the booze has to go.”

  I’m not a twelve-stepper but I’ve been around enough of them to know that this is one of the upsides of having a sponsor. An alcoholic on the precipice of disaster is supposed to reach out to that higher power or if they’re not home, a more grounded moral entity who is strong enough to take your best shot and still be able to pull you back. At that moment, Marcie did for me what no other human being had ever done for me. She didn’t judge me with her eyes or her words. I felt the pull of the booze fade away. My hands stopped moving and my brain no longer felt like it was on fire.

  I blew out my breath and shook my head. “Not as bad as I did.”

  “Not what I asked you, Walt. You just confessed several ‘A’ felonies to me. Not the least of which is murder. I need to know now if you’re going to find a bottle to crawl into, because I won’t work with someone who is a boozer.”

  “Marcie, the best thing for you to do is put me in irons and then find Ronald and hook him up too. I promise you, the Feds won’t hesitate to throw me out with the rest of the garbage.”

  “Walt, I already knew most of it. I mean the Grand Valley might as well be its own country, but we’ve got cable TV and the internet.”

  I looked at her dumbfounded. “Marcie, there’s no way you could know half of what I just told you.”

  “Well, Jessica warned me about your bad habits and Paul and I got an earful from the Feds. Your old boss in Florida told us a lot of what he suspected, but could never prove. So all you really did was confirm a lot of what I’ve been told. So…”

  “So what now? Are you getting yourself on the cover of the Sentinel or what?”

  She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I noticed you’re not wearing the gun or the badge Paul gave you. In my book, you’ve still got some good left in you.”

  I leaned back against the door and pushed her away far enough so that I could look her in the eyes, “And what about our narcissistic psychopathic friend?”

  She never broke contact and said, “The guy he killed in Florida had it coming. It did the taxpayers some good by not going through the motions of a trial where he may have gotten off.”

  “And what about the rest of it?”

  “Someone tried to murder him and one of my oldest girlfriends. Not to mention a fellow I’m somewhat fond of at the moment.”

  “Marse, he’s going to kill whoever is behind this and by extension, I’m going to be along for the ride. Even if it’s just to make sure my sister lives to see her old age.” I couldn’t believe I was trying to talk myself into jail. This had to be a dry drunk dream I was on because in the real world, I’d be well on my way to a booking room.

  “Walt, the only way this ends is by finding whoever it is that’s sending hired guns into our town. The only way to do that is to allow you to go and do what you need to do.”

  I started to shake my head. “This is like a bad dream. You need to get clear of me and this whole thing.”

  “Walter, listen to me! I’m not happy about any of this, but if I have to choose between you and Ronald or hired killers, then I choose you.”

  I’m still looking at the floorboards. If I look up, I’m afraid this whole scene will dissolve into dust or worse, a prison cell. I nodded my head at her but I didn’t speak. At that moment, I was broken and beyond help. The need for a drink was gone, but the urge to move forward was no longer with me.

  Just when things were about to become even more uncomfortable, Marcie’s phone vibrated. She looked at the caller ID and then handed it to me. The screen said unknown caller. I looked up at her and she said, “Has to be for you. Nobody I know would call me from a blocked number.”

  Taking the phone from her, I answer it. “Hello.”

  “Fuck is your phone not turned on?”

  I felt the heat begin to rise again in my face. “I threw it against the wall after the last time you hung up on me.”

  “Yeah, well write this number down.”

  “Listen, douche wagon, in case you forgot, the Feds are sniffing around, I was almost killed and you’re running around committing god knows how many felonies. Meanwhile, you’re pissed because I didn’t answer the phone? Let me ask you something – why should I?”

  Ronald didn’t answer. He let the silence hang until I finally caved.

&
nbsp; “Hold on, I need to find a pen.”

  Marcie reached behind the seat and grabbed her purse, dug around, then pulled out a pen and handed it to me.

  “Go ahead and give me the number.”

  He read it off and I wrote it on the back of my hand. “Okay, I got it. Now what?”

  “Head to the store and pick up a burner. Activate it and call me back.”

  “Ronald, where are you?” My question would go unanswered because Ronald had hung up on me again.

  I handed her phone back and said, “Do you know where I could get a cell phone around here?”

  “You really broke yours?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I did. Now it looks like I need another one.”

  She started the engine and after putting it into drive, she looked at me. “Whatever you and he are involved in, get it done with. Then maybe we can talk about what ‘later’ looks like. Until then, try and keep it out of Fruita would you? I’d hate to put your cute ass in jail.”

  And then, for reasons that only a man could understand, I became aroused. I leaned in, kissed her on the cheek and said, “Deal. Gonna need bullets for this gun too.”

  She turned and looked at me with a surprised look. “He gave you a gun with no bullets?”

  “Three clips worth of no bullets.”

  “Maybe he still holds a grudge.”

  “What grudge?”

  “Wasn’t it you who slept with his girlfriend in the eighth grade.”

  “Jesus Marcie, he’s still pissed over that?”

  “No, he’s not pissed at you at all. The gun was his idea. He thought of it as we were walking out of the station this morning.”

  “Then why’d you bring up the eighth grade?”

  “’Cos the first time you kissed me, you said I was your first and I knew you were lying.”

  My jaw went a little slack as I tried to see the rationale in her thinking. After a little while, I gave up trying to figure it out. “When this is over, you can ask me anything you want and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “Careful what you promise there Walt, you may regret it later.”

  I decided right there and then to keep my hubris in check from now on.