Key Witness

by Sandra Bolton

  Abe fastened his eyes on the nurse’s limpid, watery orbs. The elderly woman appeared an unlikely ally—weathered, wrinkled, wiry, years past retirement age, standing over him in her childish smock and baggy green pants. “I’ll explain it, Sally, if you’ll help me. Can you get these handcuffs off first?”

  “Now why should I trust you? That girl said you stole a motorcycle and almost killed her brother.” But he saw her eyes soften and thought she didn’t believe it. Sally stiffened, as if she knew he could read her, and added in a gruff voice, “Sheriff wants to ask you some questions, but I told him, no visitors for twenty-four hours. He’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have some ready answers. Tch-tch-tch,” she scolded. “Don’t be pushing that button while I’m gone. I have some bolt cutters out in my car trunk.”

  When he gave her a questioning look, she quickly explained, “Those durn combination locks on the hospital lockers are always jamming. Somebody has to be prepared around here.”

  “Is Will going to die?” he asked before she left the room.

  Sally gave him a look of encouragement. “Is he that girl’s brother? No, he’s not going to die. We’ll patch him up and he’ll be almost good as new. Well, maybe not as pretty.” She left only to return a few minutes later, lugging a heavy-duty bolt cutter. After several unsuccessful attempts to cut through the cuff attached to the bed frame, Sally said, “God durn, must be some special kind of steel. I’m going to cut the chain and you will have to wear a bracelet till that gal comes to her senses.” Sally grasped the bolt cutter with two hands and squeezed until the links snapped. “Whew. That was a tough one.”

  “Thanks, Sally,” Abe said, shaking his free hand. He rubbed his wrist. Do you know where Emily went?”

  “If you mean that Indian gal, she’s with her brother. She’s mighty spunky, but I could tell she’s real broke up. Well, I’m off duty now, so where’s that story you promised?”

  16

  You mean to tell me that car out by the burn site was the very same one you saw in Clayton, New Mexico?” Sally had been listening for the past hour, interrupting with an occasional shake of her head, or a “well, I’ll be damned.” “Jesus Christ in a miniskirt,” she blurted when he told her about the time Rico Corazón and his biker gang raised hell at the trading post and knocked Will’s grandmother down, causing her untimely death. “Well, no wonder he set out to find him. What kind of rattlesnake would shove a helpless old woman down?”

  Abe, tired from talking, closed his eyes and changed the subject. “I really need your help with Emily, Sally. I have to explain things to her. She’s a good person and she trusted me. I let her down.” When he reopened his eyes, he stared earnestly into hers. “I have a dog. I left him in my truck that night, the night of the explosion.” He closed his eyes again, his head aching from the cut. “Patch might still be there. I left the windows cracked, but he’d be hot and thirsty, wondering where I am.” Abe felt a wave of guilt as he pictured Patch waiting for him, no water or food in the cab of the truck.

  “Looks like you’re worn out and the duty nurse will be along any minute with your meds.” Sally sighed heavily. “Oh, lordy, I’ll see what I can find out.” She stood up, shaking her head and mumbling, “Blown-up building, burned-up Indian, another one mad as hell, lost dog, and a dead man to boot.”

  “A dead man?”

  “Yep. You didn’t know? They found what was left of him inside that shack that burned down. Sheriff’s gonna be here soon to ask you what you know about that.” Sally started to say more but stopped when a portly nurse carrying a tray of pills entered the room.

  “You still here, Sally? It’s two hours after your quitting time. Boy if I had known you wanted to keep working, I would have come in late.”

  While the women chatted, Abe closed his eyes, pondering Sally’s news that a body had been found in the mine shack. The dead man must be Easy Jackson’s biker friend, he reasoned. It’s all tied in with whoever was in the black Buick. What were they doing out there, and why would they kill Jackson’s friend? It made no sense to him in his present state of mind. He rubbed his throbbing forehead and opened his eyes to see Sally preparing to leave.

  “I’m on my way out, Lulu. Take good care of this boy.” She paused long enough to give him a conspiratorial wink. “So long, Abe. Get some rest now. We’ll talk later.”

  After Abe awoke from another pill-induced nap, he felt rested enough to get up and go to the bathroom. The fog in his head cleared somewhat when he washed his face and brushed his teeth, even though the bandaged bum staring back at him from the bathroom mirror looked like a stranger. When he left the bathroom, he saw Emily sitting in the chair, studying him.

  “I’m still mad at you. I want you to know that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Abe sat on the bed meeting her flat-eyed gaze. “How’s Will?”

  “He’ll live, no thanks to you. But life won’t ever be the same for him.” Emily paused, looked at the blank wall. “He told me everything, why the two of you came to Bisbee, everything. And then that skinny old white nurse gave me a good talking to. But that doesn’t get you off the hook. You’re a screwup.”

  “Yeah, I sure am. I’ll go back with you, Emily, but I want to find Patch, and I’d like to talk to Will first.”

  “You’re too late to talk to Will. They flew him out to the burn center in Phoenix this morning.”

  He regretted not being able to see Will, but knew the move was for the best. “Those specialists can do great things these days, you know.” He wanted to ask her more—what her brother’s prognosis was, and specifically if she had gone to the truck and rescued Patch. “Uh, Emily . . .”

  She had combed her hair and cleaned up since he last saw her. She looked beautiful but beaten down with worry. Her voice softened a little when she said, “Your dog’s with me. I used a slim jim through the cracked window to work the lock. Patch is okay. I came out as soon as I heard the call, so he didn’t have to stay in the truck too long.”

  Abe closed his eyes, relieved, and almost smiled as well. “I feel better already. Do you always carry a slim jim with you, and a pair of handcuffs?” Before she could answer, he added, “They’ll probably release me tomorrow, then I’ll go wherever you want, but could you take this cuff off my wrist? The other half is still attached to the bed.”

  She gave him a rueful look, but took a small key from her pocket and unlocked the handcuff.

  “Thanks. Where’s Patch now?”

  “He’s in my car, but we’re not going back,” she said straight-faced. “They took me off the case. I have no jurisdiction here, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I said I was going to Bisbee to find you and my brother. The boss said it wasn’t my case anymore. We argued, and he put me on administrative leave, said Harrigan and the State Police were handling everything, and I was out. I said, ‘fuck you,’ and left.”

  Abe straightened up, surprised that she had walked out on her post and was going rogue. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to find Corazón, and you’re going to help me. I want the asshole that started the fire, too. So, get out of that cute little nightgown and into some clothes. My car’s out front. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “You look tired. Don’t you want to rest, leave fresh tomorrow? The sheriff is coming to talk to me today, and if I’m not here, it won’t look good.”

  “Every day the trail gets colder.” Emily appeared to be thinking it over, though. “Okay, Abe. We don’t want the sheriff of Cochise County on our tail, but as soon as you and the law have a talk, get your ass out of here. We’re leaving.”

  “Let’s do it tomorrow morning. That way Sally can get the paperwork done, and we can leave without any suspicions.”

  “Sally?”

  “The nurse.”

  “So you two are old buddies now. Maybe we should invite her along.” She seemed peeved, but relented. “Oh, all right. No one is after me, or knows where I a
m except my boss, not even Mom and Grandpa. But the New Mexico Staters are going to find you pretty quick. I need to call the hospital in Phoenix to check on Will. I’m going to have to call my mom at some point, too, and let her know what happened.” Emily started to say something, then changed her mind. Instead she concluded the conversation with a terse statement. “Patch and I will stay with Paco tonight, and your truck is in his garage. You won’t need it. I’ll be back first thing in the morning in my Bronco. You better be ready.”

  “I will be. Uh, Emily, how’d you start the truck without the keys?”

  “Trade secret.”

  After Emily left, Abe lay back on his bed. It looked like he wouldn’t get much rest before things started up again. Though consoled by the knowledge that Emily seemed to have forgiven him, Abe knew he was still considered a suspect in Jackson’s death by the authorities in New Mexico. He held the fervent hope that by helping her find the killer, he would be able to establish his innocence once and for all.

  The portly nurse, Lulu, brought in a tray of food, and he sat up, determined to eat it all. Might need the energy, he thought.

  17

  The sheriff didn’t show, but late that evening one of his deputies dropped by to take Abe’s statement. The meaty, red-faced lawman, sweaty and disheveled, slumped in the plastic chair beside the bed. He took a pencil and small notepad out of his front pocket and began with the standard questions, jotting down Abe’s responses between yawns.

  “What do you know concerning the feller living in the old miner’s shack?”

  “Nothing, except he might have been a member of a motorcycle gang, the Aryan Brotherhood. My friend Will and I were trying to locate an acquaintance. We thought this guy could tell us where to find him. But before we could talk to him, the place exploded.”

  “You a member of this ‘Aryan Brotherhood’?”

  “No. I’m Jewish as a matter of fact. I don’t think they would want me.”

  “Uh-huh. You didn’t know that was a meth lab, then?”

  “No.” The news surprised him, but it made sense and helped explain the intensity of the explosion. “Like I said, we were trying to track down someone. Neither of us knew the guy that lived there, or what he did.”

  “So you didn’t even know the man you came to visit? Well, you must know the name of that mutual acquaintance, then?”

  Abe hesitated, not sure he wanted to divulge Jackson’s name. “Joe Jackson, but he liked to be called Easy, Easy Jackson.” He didn’t mention Rico Corazón. It would complicate things.

  The deputy scribbled something on his pad, and waited for Abe to continue.

  “Someone arrived before us. A car, dark-colored Buick or Lincoln, passed us on its way out.”

  The deputy paused in his note taking and perked up a little. “You see the driver?”

  “No. The windows were tinted and it was night. I couldn’t make out anyone.”

  “What about the license plate?”

  Abe tried to picture numbers and letters on those tags but came up blank. “They were Kansas plates. That’s all I could see. Whoever was in that car left the shack before we arrived.”

  “Well, as far as I’m concerned, good riddance to another damn meth-head. The person who blew that place up ought to get a medal. Maybe the idiot blew himself up.” The deputy put his notebook and pen away and lumbered to his feet. “Sorry about your Indian friend, but it’s been a long day and I’m ready for a beer. You sticking around in case we have some more questions?”

  “Sure,” Abe said, swallowing the lie.

  The doctor came by later and performed a cursory checkup. He told Abe everything looked good, but he should stay a couple of more days for observation. When Sally came on duty that night, Abe sat up in the bed and told her Emily would pick him up at seven in the morning.

  “Where are my clothes and wallet?”

  “They’re right here in this closet, but where do you think you’re going?”

  “I can’t say for sure. We have to find Rico Corazón and whoever was in the black Buick.”

  Sally looked at him as if he were a headstrong, foolish child. “Well, you need some kind of a plan, don’t you?”

  “Right now my only plan is to get out of here. Can you help me or not?”

  “Any adult who’s in his right mind can discharge himself from the hospital, Abe. You don’t need me for that, but I’m not sure you are in your right mind.” You could almost see the wheels turning in Sally’s head as she narrowed her eyes in apparent concentration. “I’m getting an idea how I might be able to help you two.” Then she broke into a devilish grin. “I haven’t had this much excitement since I put superglue in my cheatin’ ex’s Grecian Formula hair dye.”

  Abe gave her an incredulous look. “This is no joking matter, Sally. I don’t see how you could help. Anyway, you shouldn’t get involved.”

  “Oh, hush up. You two are coming to my house in the morning. I’ll tell you my idea then. Now get your rest. I’m going to make sure you have the meds you need when you leave here—just in case, you know.”

  “Sally, you sound like you’ve done this sort of thing before,” Abe said, after swallowing his assigned pills and lying back on the bed.

  “Sonny, you’d be surprised what I’ve done.”

  That night Abe’s dreams were filled with high-speed chases in endless circles. At times he played the pursuer; alternately he was being chased. All the while Sharon looked on with a bemused smile. “You really did it this time, didn’t you, baby?”

  The rising sun was peeking through an array of wispy pink and orange cirrus clouds when Emily pulled to a stop in front of the hospital and rolled the window down. “We don’t have time for this, Abe,” she said when she saw Sally standing beside him. “Get in. Let’s go.” Patch sat in the backseat, wagging his hindquarters and whining with joy at seeing his owner.

  Sally came up to the open window and bent her wiry body down to look Emily in the eye. “You better take time young lady, because I have something you don’t have. Why, hell, you don’t even know where you’re going in such a hurry.”

  “Oh, right. And what do you have that we don’t?”

  Sally crossed her arms over her flat chest. “An idea.”

  Abe, busy reuniting with Patch, broke into the conversation. “Let’s hear her out, Emily. What do we have to lose?”

  “Time, that’s what.” But curiosity got the best of the policewoman, and she shrugged her shoulders. “What the hell. Get in, both of you.”

  “No. Got my own wheels,” said Sally. “You follow me and Lizzie.” And she strode off to a faded purple Volkswagen that looked nearly as old as her.

  Emily tailed Lizzie for three miles, then ate her dust as they rumbled down yet another dirt road.

  “How much have you told her, Abe? More to the point, why have you told her anything?”

  “I told her everything. I needed to talk. She helped me, and I felt she could be trusted.”

  Bitterness tinged her response. “Well, I thought you could be trusted. First impressions can be wrong. I should have learned that by now.”

  “Look, I said I’m sorry. Will and I thought we were doing the right thing.”

  The road, and the conversation, ended in front of a tidy adobe house, resplendent in bright turquoise paint. The surrounding land looked desolate but strikingly beautiful. Purple-edged mountains fringed a desert plot accented with saguaro and organ pipe cacti. A few crimson flowers remained clustered at the end of rambling ocotillo. In the back stood a shed and fenced corral where a gray donkey and white nanny goat shared space with free-roaming chickens. Sally parked in front of the house and waited for them.

  “Come on inside. There’s some iced tea made, or I can put on the coffeepot.”

  The sun burned off the meager clouds, and heat rose like shimmering ghosts from the desert floor, but inside Sally’s house was cool and inviting. Her home formed an L shape, with an open kitchen-dining-living room in the larger l
eg and two bedrooms and a bath in the smaller. Mexican blankets covered a worn leather sofa and two matching easy chairs. Colorful woven mats and Indian rugs lay scattered on tile floors. On a shaded side of the house, one large window offered a view of distant mountains.

  “Those are the Huachucas,” Sally said. “My first husband, Bill, found a little gold claim up in those hills. That’s how we paid off this place.”

  Emily sighed. “It’s a real nice place. Now what’s this so-called plan of yours?”

  “Sit down and hold your horses.” When the coffee finished perking, Sally filled three cups and brought them to the table.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Abe began. Emily, holding the cup with both hands, rolled her eyes, but he continued. “I know it’s a long shot, but I think I found something both Corazón and the men in the black Buick want. Something valuable, only they don’t know I have it.”

  Emily frowned and gave him a speculative look. “The key you found in your backpack that Jackson must have dropped, and that offhand remark he made about possessing the key to happiness. Might be a bit of a stretch, but . . .”

  “And you have that key, Abe?” Sally said. “You didn’t tell me that. Hmm. That’s perfect. Means this plan I’m working on makes even more sense.”

  “I don’t have it anymore. I gave it to Emily.”

  Emily held her coffee cup in both hands. “And I turned it in as evidence in the murder investigation. What’s this plan you keep bringing up, Sally?”

  “Why run around all over the country, not knowing where you’re going or who you’re looking for, when all you need to do is trick them into coming to you?”

  “You mean, throw out some bait.” Abe churned the idea over in his head. If it’s the key they’re after, they’ll show up. Why not get it over with? Emily can arrest Corazón and I’ll be free and clear. After a few minutes of silence all around, he added, “I like it. And I’m the bait, but how do we get the word out?” He swallowed some hot coffee and looked at Emily. “What do you think?”