Wall of Silence

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  I had her full attention now. “Michael uses the name Michael Albert, too.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, that’s interesting, because I checked your daughter’s birth records and her last name is Albert,” I lied. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to haul you down to the station?”

  She reached a decision quickly. “Look, Michael is a good guy.”

  I arched my brow in disbelief. In our last meeting she had called him a motherfucker several times. Now, all of a sudden, he’s a good guy? “Okay, so what’s your point? Why the alias?”

  “People don’t want to hire no con. So he got hisself an ID using his middle name. I gave Fee Fee the fake last name since Michael Stratford couldn’t find a job, but Michael Albert worked plenty. Long as he was working, I could get my child support from the state if he stopped sending it.”

  A nicer person would have pointed out the errors in Alicia’s logic, but I let it go. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Alicia looked uncomfortable. “Well, me and him, you know, sometimes we get together. No big deal, just a mutual sort of thing.”

  “I understand. So have you seen him recently?”

  At that moment Alicia seemed eager to redeem herself, or protect the source of her erratic child support now that I knew the truth about his identity. Either that or she wanted me out of her place so she could get back to her show. “Look, I lied to those other four cops, but I’ll tell you the truth. He was here a couple of months ago. He brought Fee Fee this new doll.” She held up the doll with the inflexible face. It looked like it was about two years old, not two months.

  “Our records show that Michael had just quit his job and started another one. Do you know where?”

  “No, I told the truth about that there. I don’t know where he worked. Anyway, he was stupid. He leaves that good job with Stereo World and ends up getting suckered into some racket.”

  “What kind of racket?”

  “I don’t know, and that’s the God’s honest truth. He wouldn’t tell me, said he didn’t want me involved.”

  “What did he do for Stereo World?”

  “He was a driver. You know, delivering equipment and stuff.” I could see her getting antsy, trying to follow her soap while we were talking.

  “Did he ever tell you what he did for the new employer?”

  “Nah, he said the guy he’s working for is a crazy motherfucker, that’s all. The funny thing is, he had to lie about being clean to even get that whack-ass job. That guy doesn’t want cops sniffing around if he hires ex-cons.” She looked at me as if she had swallowed something distasteful. “Y’all never let people get on with their lives. Just like how you’re doggin’ him now. Michael’s a decent man.”

  “So decent that he’s okay with his daughter having a fake last name?”

  “He doesn’t want Fee Fee to know she has an ex-con for a daddy.”

  But it’s okay for her to have a crackhead for a mother?

  Alicia must have sensed my disbelief, because she continued with her defense of Michael. “He even called in about that missing little white boy.”

  Should I tell her that she’s white, too? “What missing little white boy?”

  “The one on the Amber Alerts.”

  “Okay, you’re going to have to help me a little bit here. There are a lot of little white boys on Amber Alerts. When was this?” I asked. But I already knew the answer. It had to be connected to the cold case Smitty and I were working the first time I came in contact with Alicia.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “What was the information he had?”

  “He didn’t say. It was some bad shit. That’s all I know. He saw the kid on a DVD or something.”

  Now that she’d decided to get truthful, I tried again for a location. “Do you know where Michael is?”

  “Well, his grandpa used to live down in Barstow before they put him in a home. Last I heard, they hadn’t sold his house yet.”

  “Would you happen to have a current picture of Michael that I could keep?” I could tell Alicia was going to balk, so I decided to be honest with her. “Look, I’m not after him. You have my word that I won’t arrest him if I find him. I just want to ask him a few questions. Besides, I think he could be in trouble.”

  Alicia dragged a photo album from under her coffee table, turned a few pages, and extracted a small wallet-sized picture of Michael and Fee Fee. It was obvious where the little girl got her almond-shaped brown eyes. Michael kept his hair closely clipped and neat. His skin looked unblemished and his smile looked wide and genuine. He appeared to be the decent guy Alicia claimed him to be.

  “That’s the only one I can spare. Fee Fee got the other one in her room, and I ain’t bothering it.”

  I nodded, glad just to be able to put a face to a name. “Thank you, this should help. The two cops you talked to? Did you get their names or a card?” I already knew who the two cops were, but I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.

  “First it was a woman and a man. And then it was two guys. They gave me their cards, but Fee Fee drew on them.”

  I asked what the two detectives looked like and she described Wilson and McClowski. “And what did they ask you?”

  “They wanted to know where Michael was. I told them I didn’t know.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yeah, they didn’t even ask me about his other name.”

  “Good. So you didn’t mention it to them?”

  “Now why would I do that? You guys haven’t even told me what you want him for. Shit, I ain’t took no oath.”

  “Look, if I were you, I wouldn’t tell them anything different if they come back. My partner and I don’t care, but those others are hardasses.” Okay, so add obstruction of justice to the litany of crimes I’d committed since this all began.

  “That’s what I figured, too.”

  Riley came out of the kitchen and gave me a nod, as if her fictional phone call had been successful.

  “One last thing and we’ll leave you alone. Do you happen to know Michael’s grandfather’s address in Barstow?”

  “Yeah, hold on.” With a despairing glance at the TV, Alicia plunged off into her chaotic house to find what I hoped was the address to Michael Albert Stratford’s hideout. Although I doubted he had all the answers, I sensed that he would be able to get me a whole lot closer.

  *

  The ride to Barstow was a hot one. Riley and I talked a little, mostly about things we would like to do once this was all over. I had a feeling she was still a little upset about her dream, so I wanted to ease her fears.

  “I would love to go to Disneyland one day,” I admitted.

  “You’ve never been to Disneyland?”

  “No, never. Have you?”

  She nodded her head vigorously, but the smile on her face was so sad it made my heart heavy. “My father took me when I was a kid.”

  “Would you like to go with me one day?”

  “Of course,” she said without hesitation.

  I busied myself looking out the window. I felt like I was asking her to marry me, and in a way, maybe I was. “One day” was such an obscure thing, not like saying a week from Tuesday or something. It was acknowledgment that there was no need to set more than a vague plan because we would be together no matter what. I found the thought comforting.

  We found Michael’s grandfather’s house with no problem. I stepped out of the car and onto an empty, sun-bleached Doritos bag. Its loud crackle made me jump. The area looked dry and desolate. I couldn’t imagine staying out here for longer than a few days without going crazy.

  Riley and I knocked on the door and received no answer. I peered in a window, but couldn’t see anything. An air conditioner droned from somewhere near the back of the house.

  “If he isn’t here, he’ll probably be back soon,” I surmised aloud. “People don’t leave the AC running if they’re not occupying the house.”

>   Riley and I circled around to the rear of the property. A heavy, old air conditioner filled a window just to the left of the back door. A rusty-looking substance leaked from it and dried in the heat of the scorching sun, leaving an orange stain on the ground.

  I pulled one of the 9’s from my holster. “Riley,” I whispered, “if this guy is here, it’s because he’s hiding from something. He may be armed, and I don’t want to get caught without protection.”

  Riley nodded, and I took an improvised handkerchief from my pocket—a piece I’d torn from a T-shirt—and tried the back door. To my surprise, the knob turned and the door swung open, almost as if its hinges had just been oiled. The lack of sound was more eerie than a loud, dramatic creak.

  A blast of cold air hit me in the face. I peered inside. All the blinds had been pulled, so the room looked dim. My body quaked as I stepped from the oppressively stuffy heat outside into the icy frigidity of the house. The eerie feeling I’d had when I first opened the door didn’t dissipate as we entered. If anything, it got worse. Who in the hell would crank up their AC this high? The one comfort I had was that no one could endure this kind of cold for longer than a few minutes, leaving me fairly sure we weren’t walking into an ambush.

  It was obvious that the house had been searched. The sofa cushions looked as if someone had removed them and made a half-assed attempt at putting them back. An overstuffed recliner was pushed up against a wall. I trained my penlight on the floor and found long indentations in the carpet, indicating that the furniture had been recently moved.

  Since all the curtains were closed, I went ahead and started searching the place I opened the refrigerator and found a reasonable supply of hot dogs, dry salami, Wonder Bread, ketchup, and a case of beer. “I think he was planning to stay for a while.” Shivering, I took Riley’s hand and led her toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s check the rest of the house and then get the hell out of here. It’s freezing.”

  The first door we opened was a linen closet stuffed with threadbare towels and sheets as old as me. Further down the hall, the bedroom door stood open. Heavy curtains covered the windows, allowing only a small crack of light to filter through. The bed, though sloppily made, was empty. I peered behind the door, signaled for Riley to wait in the hall, conceivably out of harm’s way, then stepped into the room, gun raised in front of me.

  There was no sound or movement, and I felt my heart start to slow to its normal beat. I opened the closet. “Shit,” I yelled, as a large, heavy object brushed past me and hit the floor with a hollow thump. I pointed my gun down at it and ordered, “Hands out at your sides. Now!”

  “Foster….”

  “Riley, stay back, God damn it.” The room was flooded with light.

  “The lights work,” she said quietly.

  My gun shook as I stared incredulously at the large roll of carpet. It never ceased to amaze me what people stored in their closets. I pushed the heavy carpet back inside and slid the door closed. “I want to check the bathroom, and then we can get out of here.”

  The only personal object in the bathroom was a yellow toothbrush that didn’t appear to have been used recently. The toothbrush was a small clue, and one I didn’t take lightly. Michael had either left of his own free will, or someone had taken him by force. I was leaning toward the latter. Even if he was careless enough to leave an energy-guzzling AC running, he wouldn’t forget his toothbrush if he’d been conscientious enough to bring it in the first place.

  The next thing I noticed was that the shower curtain in the bathroom was closed and on the outside of the tub. Most people who take showers leave the curtains inside the tub, and people who take baths leave them out and usually open. Either way, I didn’t like the idea of that shower curtain being closed. I suppose I knew what I would find before I pushed it back, but I was shocked rigid when I saw him.

  “Oh, God.” The two footsteps Riley took were enough to break me from my trance. “Stay back, God damn it,” I snapped. Later I would have to apologize for cursing at her, but I had plenty to deal with first. Like the thick, nauseating stench wafting freely up to my nose.

  “Foster, what’s going on. Please?” Worry made her voice thick and the “please” was almost a sob.

  “Just don’t come in here, okay?” I softened my tone. “He’s dead.”

  “Okay,” I heard her answer.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” I whispered as I shined the light over the body and back up again. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair closely clipped. Dried blood trailed from his mouth, and the small bullet hole on his forehead was so neat it looked as though it had been painted on. Small caliber, I thought. Maybe a .22. I stared at the spatter pattern for a minute. I had never seen anything like it. The front of his shirt looked like someone had blown red paint on it through a straw.

  “He’s been shot in the head,” I said.

  “How long ago?” I could hear the worry in Riley’s voice.

  Just hang on a few minutes longer, baby, and we can get out of here. “Hard to say with the AC being cranked up like that, but not too long. I think we may need to talk to Alicia again, this looks like an execution.”

  I took the toothbrush from the sink and used it to pry open his lips, no easy task because he was still in full rigor. Whoever killed him had hit him so hard that several of his teeth had been knocked out. I aimed the penlight into his mouth and muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

  “His tongue is missing,” Riley said from somewhere right behind me.

  I thought about chastising her for sneaking up like that, but I figured she was shaken up enough already. Releasing Michael’s lip, I stood up and steered her back into the bedroom. “Whoever did this was very angry at him for something.”

  “Where is it?” Riley’s voice was calm, so calm that it bothered me.

  “Where’s what?” I asked, frowning as I got a better look at Riley’s ashen complexion.

  “His tongue.”

  “A better question is probably, where’s all the blood?”

  I watched Riley sway slightly. I was shivering, but she wasn’t. Not unusual, considering her body temperature was naturally warm. But she looked like she was in the early stages of shock, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  “Aw, shit. Sweetie?” I quickly hustled her out of the room.

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled. I could see she was having trouble keeping her speech clear.

  “Do you want to go wait in the car?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I want to stay with you.”

  I looked around the room. It was too cold, and the heat from the car might keep her from going into further shock. But if the person who had done that to Michael came back, I didn’t want her out there alone. I grabbed an afghan from the floor and wrapped it around her, than sat her on the couch.

  “Riley, listen to me. I’m afraid you might be going into shock. Just wait here for two minutes, okay? Then we’ll leave. Can you do that, for me?”

  At her nod, I pulled one of the 9 mm’s out of the holster and laid it on the couch next to her. She started to shake her head, which was a good sign. If she was coherent enough to argue with me, she would be okay.

  “It’s just in case, sweetheart. You’ll see someone coming through either of the doors before I will. You don’t have to touch it…just leave it there.”

  I noted that some of the color was coming back to her skin and lips, and she had started to shiver a little.

  “You scared me,” I said softly, and leaned in and kissed her lips. They parted for me and I pressed harder, just for an instant, before stepping back. I needed to finish up and get Riley out of here.

  I did my best to ignore the corpse behind me as I went through the cabinets and drawers, looking for something I would know was important when I saw it. I found the answer to Riley’s question almost instantly.

  “Nice.” I stared down into the toilet. The bloody mass floating there begged to be flushed, but I lowered the lid with the
penlight.

  The tongue made me sick for two reasons. One, the sheer cruelty of the act; and the amount of blood present in the toilet told me that Michael was probably alive when his tongue was removed. The neat little hole in his head was no doubt the thing that finally killed him. And two, it confirmed what I already knew. Michael had been silenced because he knew something he shouldn’t have. His tongue being removed was a warning to someone that they should keep their mouth shut. Was it for me?

  After I was satisfied that I’d missed nothing in the bathroom, I worked my way through the bedroom. The only thing keeping me moving was the fact that I knew I needed to get Riley out of there soon or she could go into shock. Careful to use my penlight and “handkerchief,” and not to touch anything that could leave a print, I searched the place and found the answer to my earlier half-formed question when I pulled back the covers of the queen-size bed. It looked like someone had dropped a side of raw beef in there and left it to bleed all over the otherwise clean sheets. I grimaced and tossed the blankets back over the mess. This was obviously where they had removed Michael’s tongue. I wondered if he’d told them what they wanted to know before they cut it out.

  I sank to my knees and checked under the bed. There was no car out front when Riley and I had arrived, and I couldn’t find a bag or anything else belonging to Michael. If he’d come here to hide, he would have brought clothes, but aside from the toothbrush, there was nothing. So unless I was to believe that Michael had arrived on foot with nothing but his toothbrush, and had somehow gotten into the house without a key, it stood to reason that whoever killed him had taken all of his belongings in a effort to make sure there were no clues left behind. Whoever was responsible for this was good, almost too good. I was certain when the police finally did show up, there would be no helpful fingerprints or forensic evidence to lead them to the killer.

  I had walked around the body long enough. I would need to check him, and I wasn’t going to be able to do that with just the use of a penlight. I grimaced as I was forced to reach first into his T-shirt pocket and then the two front pockets of his jeans. I pushed the body over as far as I could and felt the back pockets. I tried to think of anything other than the fact that I was now literally groping the rigor-hardened ass cheek of a man I didn’t know, looking for clues that I was sure had long since been removed.