Blood Remembered

by Douglas Pratt

  "Hello?" I said.

  "Max, it's John."

  "Hey, John, how's it going?"

  "Pretty good. And you?"

  "Not bad, but I need a favor." I proceeded to share the recent events with him. After I brought him up to date, I asked him if he could check the numbers I had absconded from Leigh Rozen's trailer.

  "Tomorrow's Sunday," John said, "but I will see if I can pull a few favors and get anything for you by late tomorrow. Might be Monday."

  "John that would be great. I owe you again."

  "Don't worry; I am sure I will collect sometime."

  I told him goodbye, and he promised to call later. Mandy was still asleep, and I decided to retire myself. I slipped quietly into my berth. The solitude and the Manhattan had done wonders for me, and I quickly drifted into a comfortable sleep.

  13

  I awoke in the dark. A soft scent floated in the air, and I realized that Mandy was sleeping next to me. My eyes adjusted to the dark as I lay there quietly. I sat up at a sound outside, like something moving on deck.

  I slid out of the bed, and my bare feet touched down on the carpet. Mandy stirred slightly as I stood. I moved out of the room as quietly as possible. I stood in the living area. Everything was silent, but I felt very wary after the day.

  I decided to go out on deck, but I didn't want to use the sliding glass door. It made too much noise on a quiet night. I went back through the bridge and out the small door beside the ladder that I had slid down earlier.

  I slowly pulled myself up the ladder. I froze when I heard rustling on the top deck. I continued slowly, lifting my head just above the deck.

  The moonlight cast shadows across the deck. The rustling sound occurred again, and my eyes darted. Beneath one of the deck chairs, a small raccoon scurried. It moved into the moonlight, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I pulled myself up and placed a knee on the deck.

  A glint of moonlight reflected in the corner of my eye before a blow forced me down on the deck. Stunned, I tried to scramble to my feet. A black figure moved toward me, and I jerked upward as a foot struck me in the stomach.

  I fell to the floor and rolled toward my attacker. I thrust my arm out blindly. Luck guided my hand, and I struck his right leg. He lost balance for only a second. I scampered out of his reach.

  My attacker recovered before I could get to my feet. His fist came down hard against my cheek. He stepped back, and I wasted no time jumping to my feet.

  My feet did not even have the chance to get firmly planted when I saw the business end of an oar sweeping toward me. I caught the entire force of the blow in my chest. My back struck the railing, and a second strike from the oar sent me flailing overboard.

  The ice cold water surrounded me, but I was barely able to feel it. A few seconds passed before I was fully conscious of what had happened.

  I kicked as hard as I could toward the surface. My hands found the hull of the boat. Another second later, I was gasping through the surface of the water.

  I could hear the tapping of footsteps on the dock. My assailant was escaping. I grabbed the railing on the side. I pulled myself up. Two taillights were racing toward the highway. I could only make out the shape of a truck before I collapsed onto the deck.

  14

  My eyelids lifted, and light flooded my pupils. I squeezed them closed and tried to open them slowly. A paramedic stood nearby with a deputy. I was lying on the couch. Mandy was sitting at the table when she saw me wake.

  "Max," she moved to my side. "How are you?"

  "Sore." I was sore. I felt every muscle in my body screaming in agony.

  The deputy noticed me as I sat up slowly. He motioned toward me, and the paramedic rushed to my side.

  "Careful now," the paramedic, who was only a 20 or 21-year-old blonde kid, spoke softly as if his voice might be causing me more pain. "You seemed to have taken quite a beating. You are lucky, though. Nothing seems to be seriously damaged."

  "Doesn't quite feel undamaged."

  He smiled, "You'll probably have a giant bruise on your chest tomorrow."

  "I already feel it."

  The deputy, who had stepped outside, returned with Scott Gaither in tow.

  "Well, well, Mr. Sawyer. Had a kinda interesting night, huh?"

  I nodded.

  "I have to say," he continued, "I was not too happy to get a call in the dead of night that a murder suspect was almost killed. A little coincidental?"

  "A little."

  "So, Sawyer, did you get a good look at your friend?"

  "No, it was dark, and he caught me by surprise. I think he was over six feet tall, but I wasn't really able to tell."

  "Was he black or white?" Gaither asked.

  I shrugged, "I think he was white, but I couldn't say. He drives a pickup truck."

  "Figures. Not a lot to go on, Sawyer. Did he say anything?"

  I shook my head.

  Gaither looked toward the deputy. "I called Tom Campbell for you. He said he would be by in the morning."

  I nodded my response.

  "Billy, here, thinks you are going to be okay, but he wants to take you to the hospital for an x-ray." Gaither cocked his head to the flighty paramedic, who still stood with his smile.

  "I think I'll be fine," I stood up slowly. Nothing felt broken, but I could tell I would be sore. I had been in worse fights, and I never let one get me down.

  "You may still have a few cracked ribs," Billy said with great disappointment in his voice.

  "It won't be the first time then. Right now I just want to get back into the bed. The last thing I want is to spend a couple of hours in an ER."

  I looked at my watch. It was almost half past four. I felt utterly exhausted, and I only wanted to get back to sleep.

  "Can I go to bed now?" I asked.

  Gaither eyed Mandy, "I imagine so."

  I narrowed my eyes, "Then you'll have to leave."

  "I'm gonna leave a car here until the morning, just in case."

  I nodded, and Gaither and his troops slowly exited the boat.

  After the dock had cleared, the cops were still milling around the parking lot for a few minutes before all of them left, except one.

  Mandy moved over next to me, "How are you feeling?"

  "Just a little sore. Nothing too bad."

  "This is all my fault. I am so sorry."

  "No, this isn't your fault. You never asked me for anything. I brought it all on myself."

  "Max...” her voice was very soft.

  "Besides, think how good I will feel when it stops hurting."

  Mandy smiled and leaned in to wrap her arms around me. I held her for a minute.

  "Why did you come to help me?" She held her head against me.

  "I don't know. I had no choice. We have always been friends. I couldn't let..."

  I was interrupted when her lips pressed against mine. She wrapped her arms around my neck while we kissed. It was an incredible kiss, and for a moment I was completely lost in her arms.

  After a minute, she pulled away. She gently pulled me toward the bedroom. For the second time that night, my brain was several seconds behind my body. I was following her when I stopped.

  "Mandy, you...We have been through a lot tonight. I don't want...Let's sleep on it. Make sure you feel okay in the morning."

  Mandy's face drooped, "I'm sorry, Max. I...”

  "I didn't say I didn't like it. I just don't want to wake up tomorrow and find your opinion of me different. You are too vulnerable. After tonight, I am even vulnerable. Let's not be rash."

  She moved away from me, "Okay, I'll sleep in the other room. I just didn't want to be alone."

  I really felt like a heel. "I think, if it's okay with you, that we... Well, I just, I think we had a rough night, and I don't like to jump into anything too serious. Let's take smaller steps."

  "Okay" Mandy looked confused, and rightfully so, because I was utterly confused myself.

  I kissed her on the cheek. She smiled, a
nd we stood. We walked into the bedroom. I passed out quickly from sheer exhaustion.

  15

  I felt great until the morning arrived. I had given up any hope of getting a lot of rest by eight-thirty. Mandy was still curled in my arms. My chest ached, and I slowly slid out of the bed. A large purple bruise had formed on my chest.

  I stumbled to the bathroom for a long hot shower. I climbed into the shower and turned the handle all the way into the red. As the hot water pelted my skin, I sat down in the tub. I was hoping some heat therapy would soothe some soreness. I had a lot of questions to get answered today, and I had no intention of letting anything like a little soreness get in the way.

  I leaned back in the tub letting my lids slide closed. The water bounced off me, and I began to relax. After a moment, I drifted into a comfortable doze.

  I awoke a few minutes later when the door opened. Mandy stuck her head in slightly. "Excuse me."

  "It's okay, come on in."

  "I just wanted to check on you. Feeling okay?"

  "Just a little beat down," I smiled.

  "Want some aspirin?"

  "No, thanks. I was thinking about going to see Mark's house. Where he lived before he married Leigh Rozen."

  Mandy sat on the toilet, "I want to go with you."

  "Not a good idea."

  "Too bad. I am going with you."

  "Mandy..."

  "I have a key."

  I lost. "Okay, but you drive."

  The curtain popped open, and Mandy leaned in and kissed me quickly.

  "Want some food?" she asked.

  "Sure, a little something." I answered and Mandy smiled as she exited the bathroom.

  I was feeling much better, though I was still very sore. I pulled myself to my feet. Clouds of steam hung about four feet off the floor. I found a towel and wiped the water from my purple chest.

  I emerged from the bedroom donned in a white pullover and black slacks. I slipped into a black leather jacket.

  I hoped that at some time today I might come across my attacker. He would probably get quite a shock to find me up and about. Perhaps my determination might put a bit of fear into him. Of course, it could also get me killed.

  I found Mandy in the kitchen. She was slaving over a few pieces of toast. She handed me two slices slathered in butter. We ate quietly.

  "Thanks for breakfast," I said after finishing.

  She smiled, and I felt it might be a good time to ruin her mood with some nasty questions.

  "Tell me. Did Mark give you any indication he was having an affair?" I was right. I watched her mood swing down quickly.

  "No, I had no idea. I know it makes him sound like trash, but he always treated me like he loved me. He always brought flowers. He was very romantic. In fact, he insisted we get engaged, not me. I never pushed it at all. Never really thought about it, until he asked."

  I studied her carefully. She had gone through a lot in the past couple of weeks.

  "Why the sudden change? Leigh Rozen was no catch, and there didn't seem to be a lot of love lost when he died."

  There was some trivial item I was missing. It seemed to be escaping me now.

  "Did Mark use drugs?"

  She shook her head, "He did some pot, I know. He never did anything else that I know of."

  "Let's go see what's at his house," I rose slowly and stiffly from my seat.

  Mandy snatched the keys off the table and we walked off the boat.

  16

  Mark Lofton lived in a rented trailer on a lot on the edge of Hellenston. I sat in the passenger's seat feeling my muscles ripple with aches and twinges. Twenty minutes later we arrived at the trailer. Lofton's nearest neighbor was half a mile away. That was good for us. At least with a key, we weren't breaking and entering.

  It was obvious that the police had already done a fairly thorough job of sifting the place. With Mandy's help, we were able to locate Lofton's more valuable possessions. Unfortunately, the trailer was spotless. Anything of any value to us had already been taken by the police.

  We walked back outside empty-handed. Mandy leaned against the car, while I strolled around the trailer. I noticed a yellow circle in the grass. The garbage can have probably been there. No doubt it was now evidence.

  I walked around to the back of the trailer. On the back, there was a single door with a small flight of wooden stairs. There were several piles of junk lying around the yard.

  Less than a hundred yards behind the trailer was a line of trees. The forest looked deep from where I stood. I walked toward-the trees. The grass was wet, and my shoes quickly developed a small coating of water.

  I looked up from my shoes and into the woods. I glimpsed something in the distance. I walked toward the woods, and as I came closer I saw a hole that had been used as a personal landfill. It was far enough from the trailer to be easily overlooked.

  Mandy must have come around the trailer for me. I heard her jogging behind me.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "That must be Mark's dumpster."

  Her eyes lit up, "I didn't even think about that."

  The pit was about ten feet across and probably another ten feet deep. There was trash piled up about five feet. The walls of the bit were blackened by smoke. Apparently, Mark burned his trash every so often. Luckily, it looked like it had been awhile since his last bonfire.

  I climbed down into the pit. My feet sank slightly into the surface of the rubbish. I knelt down and began sifting through Lofton's refuse. It didn't appear to have been searched through yet, and I was willing to bet the police had not noticed it on their initial search of the property.

  Empty bottles of cheap beer gave away Mark Lofton's easily pleased palette. Most likely the beer was meant to complement the vast array of frozen TV dinners that he had been consuming. I was wondering if Lofton had ever eaten a home-cooked meal.

  Mandy climbed down and began to help me pan for clues. For twenty minutes, we sifted and sorted the trash. We were growing nastier as we continued to wade through the muck. Then I struck gold.

  I wanted to shout "Eureka" when I found a slimy check stub stuck to a Sears sales flyer. I peeled it carefully away and examined it.

  "J.T.'s Club," I read the name of the account. It appeared to be a paycheck from a club located in Little Rock.

  "Did Mark work down there?"

  "I don't know. I thought he was working construction."

  I peered at the check; it was dated only three weeks ago.

  We continued to poke through the trash for another fifteen minutes before we decided to give it up. We were both smelling fairly rank and in need of a shower.

  17

  Tom was waiting on the dock when we arrived back at the boat. He expressed his disgust as we approached.

  "Did you get beaten up by the garbage man, or what?"

  I gave him the biggest, sarcastic smirk I could muster. "Been busy this morning."

  "How are you feeling?" he asked seriously.

  "Very sore, but I've been worse."

  "I brought that over," he pointed to a FedEx package that he had left on the deck.

  "That's mighty kind of you."

  "No problem," he replied. It was fairly evident that he was avoiding any contact with Mandy.

  "Want some coffee?" I offered.

  "No, thanks. I have a lot of work to do."

  Tom reached for my hand and gave Mandy a very curt nod. I let Mandy go on board, while I walked Tom to his car.

  "So, have you heard anything new?"

  "Not really. Other than Scott's prime suspect was nearly killed last night. I'm a little worried, Max."

  "Don't sweat it, I’m a big boy." Tom often felt obligated to fill in as a father to me since my dad was murdered. Since his own son also died, I think that I also filled a role he needed.

  "Max, be careful. Don't forget that the police in this town may not be bad, but they don't exactly have a short memory."

  "Neither do I," I said as my lips turn
ed up.

  Tom turned toward his car with great resignation.

  "Tom," I blurted, "one more little favor. What do we know about Leigh Rozen's background?"

  "Nothing much," he replied, "especially that I can share."

  "Prior arrests? Jobs? Family? Friends? Something must be there for you to share."

  "I'll let you know later."

  I sighed at the obstinate old man, "Fine, I am going to go to Little Rock for a little while today, so I'll call you later."

  "Max, don't get too involved here. You already had someone try to drown you. You don't want to get killed for a high school sweetheart."

  "No, I don't want to get killed, but I don't plan on it either."

  I turned and left Tom to his own grumbling. I still felt slimy and smelly, and I really wanted a shower.

  18

  When I boarded the boat, I could hear the shower running in the back. I took my package into the bedroom. With a quick cut from my pocket knife, I had the box opened. Inside was a large black suitcase that I quickly pulled onto the bed.

  I snapped the clasps and lifted the case open. My collection of neat gadgets was kept inside. Many of the items I had obtained in some fancy spy shops in New York, including a small parabolic mike that could pick up voices several hundred yards away. Some of the smaller more complex bugs and listening devices came from other sources in different law enforcement agencies. I did a quick inventory, and I lifted up a false bottom to reveal a secret compartment. There I stored a chrome 9mm Glock with several magazines of ammunition.

  Once I was completely satisfied that my collection was complete, I replaced everything and closed the lid. The shower had gone quiet now, and I could hear Mandy moving around as she dried off.

  The door opened, and Mandy walked out wrapped in a towel. Her hair was still wet and mussed from her towel. Water droplets still held their position on her bare shoulders, and while the towel covered all the important parts, there was quite enough to send pulses from my head to my toes. She smiled at me as she passed out of the room, and I wondered if she was getting at me intentionally.