by Ann Lister
“The kind of shit even your fancy New York lawyers will have trouble tap dancing around,” the second detective added with a smirk.
“Well, that’s your opinion, Detective. As far as I’m concerned, until I talk to Brian, no crime has been committed. I believe the word you use is ‘alleged’.”
“So you said you haven’t seen Mr. Lofgren since last Thursday?”
“That’s right, I’ve been away,” Michael answered evasively.
“Where were you?”
Michael eyes narrowed in anger. “New Hampshire, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Were you alone?”
Michael’s back stiffened. “No. I was with my wife. Look, am I a suspect or something?”
“Don’t get an attitude with us, Mr. Wade.”
Michael’s eyes burned into the detective’s and held a silent stand-off until the second officer broke their trance.
“So, you didn’t see Mr. Lofgren all weekend?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Michael shifted his weight. His anger near the boiling point. “I’ve already told you, I haven’t seen or heard from Brian since last week. So, unless you’re here to arrest me for something, I’m going inside.”
The detective handed Michael a business card as he pushed his way past him. “Here – take this. It has my telephone number on it. If you should happen to hear from your pedophile friend, call me.”
Michael’s fist coiled back, as if to punch the detective. The man made no attempt to move, and instead, provokingly smiled. “Don’t even give me a reason, Mr. Wade,” he chuckled, pushing a pencil behind his ear. “Arresting you for assaulting an officer would be the highlight of my day.”
“Fuck you,” Michael muttered under his breath. He flicked the paper card into the air as if he were discarding a cigarette butt, and headed toward the house.
“Oh, and Mr. Wade, let me remind you, aiding and abetting a criminal is a felony. So, don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”
Without replying, Michael slammed the door behind him.
“Brian’s in big trouble, Michael,” Annie cried, hurrying to his side. “It’s all over the news!”
Michael stepped beyond her and into the kitchen. The television was releasing another updated report on the attack. He listened carefully before shutting it off and nervously raked his fingers through his hair.
“I’m going to go over and talk to Barbara,” he announced, reaching for his car keys. “She’ll know what really happened.”
“I’ll come too,” Annie volunteered.
“Annie, the last thing you need to do is get stressed over this. Besides, in case Brian calls, someone should be here to answer the phone so he doesn’t get the machine.”
He kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Relax, babe. I’m sure it’s not as serious as the press is making it out to sound on the television. You know how reporters love to blow a story like this out of proportion. They hear the names involved and suddenly it becomes national news.”
Annie sighed. “I hope you’re right, Michael.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he smiled, opening the front door. “Call me at Barbara’s if you hear from him.”
The unmarked police cruiser remained parked outside the gates. Michael cursed loudly as he watched them pull in behind traffic to follow him. Never leaving his sight, they stayed on his tail until he came to a stop outside the call box at Brian’s front gate.
“Who is it?” Barbara’s maid asked.
“It’s Michael Wade.”
A few seconds later the gate slid open and Michael sped his car up the long driveway toward the house. Before Michael could knock, the door flew open and Barbara jumped into his arms.
“Jesus, where the hell have you been?” she asked, tears distorting her voice.
“Annie and I went away for our anniversary but I’m beginning to think we shouldn’t have.”
Barbara reluctantly released her grip on him and stepped away, rubbing at her eyes.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“Yes, except for the maid. She’s been trying to retain some sense of control around here. Between the phone ringing and the front gate buzzing every five seconds, I can’t take any more of this! Everyone else is at my nanny’s house.”
Barbara began to pace like a caged animal. “You know the police have the phone’s tapped and they’re watching the house. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had your phone lines tapped too! I’m not sure what they expect. Brian’s not that stupid to come back or call here anytime soon.”
“I was followed here,” Michael casually added, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Wanna tell me what the hell happened?”
Barbara stopped and slouched against the refrigerator. Her swollen eyes stared out the back window. “Apparently, Brian was screwing my sister’s step-daughter,” she spoke somberly, suddenly making eye contact with Michael. “She’s fifteen, for Christ sakes!”
“And you know this for fact?” Michael asked, remembering the conversation he had with Brian about the very same girl, just days earlier.
“Michael, she’s pregnant.” Barbara rolled her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Are you sure it’s his kid? I mean, she wouldn’t be the first fifteen year old to lie to her parents about something like this.”
“Trust me, we’re all sure it’s his,” she sighed. She crossed the room and plunked herself down on the barstool beside Michael, then laid her head down onto the countertop. “She came here to tell him she was pregnant. When she refused to have an abortion, he tried to strangle her. She has the bruises on her throat to prove it.” Barbara sniffed loudly. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I’ve known for years he’s had a thing for younger women - but not fifteen-year-olds and certainly not someone from our own damn family!”
Michael reached out and stroked Barbara’s back. He tried to think of the right words to say but nothing came to him. It was all surreal for him; like something out of a bad movie. Yes, he knew Brian was no angel when it came to cheating on Barbara and Michael had long since give up trying to get him to change his evil ways. But, this was clearly the actions of a man he did not know.
“Has anyone heard from him?” Michael mumbled.
Barbara propped her head up on an elbow. Tears made her cheeks glisten in the sunlight. “No,” she sobbed. “And I hope he never comes back either. He can rot in jail for all I care!”
Michael stepped between her legs on the stool and embraced her in his arms. “You really don’t mean that, Barb. After all the years you two have been together and the shit you’ve survived, this is just one more bump in the road.”
Her arms slid easily around his waist. She pressed her face against his chest and exhaled. For several minutes she held on tightly while Michael tried his best to offer her solace within his arms. His body was firm and lean, much like Brian’s, but with more muscle tone and he smelt heavenly. For one very brief moment, her thoughts focused on Michael.
“Do you think he’s all right?” she asked, a faint quiver in her voice.
“I’ve never known Brian to lay low for very long. He’ll surface soon enough, then we’ll get his legal counsel armed for bear.”
Barbara tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “You know he’ll never survive prison.”
“I know. But it won’t come to that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The days passed at a snail’s pace. Michael split his time between Barbara’s house and the main office of the band. Still, Brian remained at large. It was usually after midnight by the time Michael crawled into bed each night. Those few hours were the only time Annie had with him and even then, he was distracted with thoughts of Brian.
A patrol car remained outside the gates to their house, making Annie feel like a virtual prisoner. They were living through a nightmare.
It was after ten o’clock on the fifth day when Michael’s cell phone rang in the pocket of h
is leather jacket. Once again, he was holding vigil at Barbara’s house. He reached for his ringing phone believing it to be Annie. Instead the distraught voice of Brian greeted him.
“Where the hell are you?” Michael asked.
“I really need you, man,” Brian choked.
“Tell me where you are and I’m there.”
Michael listened carefully to the address. “I’ll be there within the hour. Don’t do anything crazy, okay?”
“I’ll sit tight,” Brian replied quietly.
Barbara’s eyes were wide with worry. “Where is he? Is he okay? How did he sound?”
Michael paced the floor of the kitchen trying to figure out a plan to meet Brian without a police escort. “The only way I can do it, is if I call a taxi, have them meet me at the gas station out on the highway and go from there,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “That way the cops won’t see me leave in my own car.”
“And how do you plan on getting to the gas station?”
“I’ll run through the woods. It shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”
“It’s pitch black out there, Michael. You could trip and get hurt and no one would be able to find you!”
“Do you have a better plan?”
“No.”
“Look, we both know if I take my car I will be followed. Is that what you want?”
She shook her head. “Can I ask where he is?”
“He’s at the old Harbor View Motel.”
“Can I come with you?”
Michael shook his head. “I think it’s best if I go get him alone.”
She nodded. “Should I call our lawyer?”
“Not yet. Lets wait until I get back, okay?” Michael slipped on his coat and headed toward the back door. There was nothing but thick woods between the house and the main thoroughfare. Reluctantly, he called for a taxi and the plan was set in action. “With any luck, I should be back with Brian in a couple of hours. I’ll call you when I get there.”
Barbara hugged him tightly. “Please be careful, Michael.” He smiled reassuringly and disappeared out the back door. It took less than fifteen minutes for him to make it to the main road, and except for a few cuts and scratches from the underbrush, he was none the worse for wear. As he came out of the woods, the taxi was pulling into the gas station.
Michael quickly flagged down the driver and jumped into the back seat. He gave the man the address and asked him to hurry. Then he called Annie. At last, she saw an ending to the nightmare and sighed with relief.
“Hurry home, Michael, and please be careful,” she urged.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he replied.
“I love you.”
“Me too.”
The taxi turned onto Shore Drive and Michael could see the motel in the distance. Brian’s bright red sports car became visible in the parking lot. What Michael failed to see in his excitement was the unmarked police cruiser pulling into the shadows beside the motel, as he got out and paid the taxi driver.
Michael knocked on the door and waited. “Come on, Brian, let me in. It’s me, Mike.”
“The door’s open,” Brian called to him.
Inside, the tiny cluttered room was dimly lit and smelt of rotting food. There were pizza boxes covering a dirty table by the window, Chinese food cartons piled high, and empty booze bottles littered the bureau. The only light came from a filthy bathroom with broken green tile and bugs in the sink. Both the beds were almost stripped bare of the sheets and well used.
Brian sat between the beds on the floor. His appearance caused Michael to stop in his tracks. It was obvious he had not showered or shaved in days, dark circles hung heavy below his bloated eyes, and his lips were puffy and cracked. His clothes clung to his body, outlining his fragility. In his lap, Brian’s fingers toyed with the trigger of a .357 Magnum revolver. Michael’s stomach began to churn into a tight knot.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked, sitting down on the bed to face his friend. He had seen Brian hung-over from booze and drugs before, but this was the worst. In the nearly twenty-five years they had known each other, this was Brian’s rock bottom, the state one reaches before they totally lose touch of reality.
Brian’s eyes drifted up toward the sound of Michael’s voice. It was painful to watch him try and focus but Michael waited until recognition lit Brian’s face. Then tears trickled down his dirty cheeks and his smile faded.
“I really screwed up this time, Mike. I really did.”
Michael shrugged and tried to remain cool. “No big deal, Bri’. We’ll get a team of cut-throat lawyers on the case and…”
Brian’s head jerked up to face Michael. “I can’t do jail time! You know I’d never survive being trapped in a fucking cell!”
“No one said anything about doing time.” Michael did his best to keep his voice calm while his eyes nervously watched Brian fiddle with the gun in his lap.
“I’d rather be dead,” Brian said, his voice sinking to his hands and the cold, shiny object they were holding.
“What’s the gun for?” Michael asked, slowly reaching out to take it.
Brian spun the chambers around with his long, bony fingers. “I’ve been sitting here for days thinking about my life, Mike. And you know what I came up with?
“What, Bri’.”
Brian sniffed loudly and wiped at his nose and face with the back of his hand. He forced a weak smile to his strained face. “I’ve lived a great life,” he shrugged, lifting his chin with a sense of pride. “I’ve done more than I ever imagined, traveled the world dozens of times, and achieved every award possible in this fucking business. Not too shabby, huh.”
“No, that’s not bad at all.”
“And, along the way I made myself some babies and enjoyed more pussy than an army of men could attempt on their best day!” A lecherous laugh shook Brian’s shoulders. “What’s not to like about that?”
Michael smiled weakly. “It’s been a great life, to be sure, but the best is yet to come. We’re at a stage now where we can sit back and reap the benefits from the hard work we’ve done over the last two decades. Why stop now?”
Brian pondered Michael’s remarks. “Maybe I want to go out riding the crest of the wave instead of being washed up on the beach.”
“You’re a long way from being washed up on the beach, Brian. So, why don’t you let me have the gun.”
“You don’t fucking get it, Mike, do you? There is no way out of this for me except jail and we’ve already discussed that conclusion. It ain’t gonna happen.”
Noisily, Brian snapped the chamber closed and pointed the gun toward the ceiling. Michael’s heart began to pound in his ears as he swallowed hard. His brain was desperate to think of a plan to get the gun from Brian’s tight grasp.
“Brian, give me the gun before it accidentally goes off and kills one of us.”
Brian hoisted himself up onto the edge of the bed and became level with Michael. “Why? Would that be such a bad thing?”
“Yes, it would. Besides, I don’t believe you had me drive all the way out here to watch you blow your brains out.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to die alone.”
Outside the motel two more police cruisers joined the first patrol car. Like rats, they scurried in the obscurity of the shadows, taking positions along side the building, pistols raised, awaiting the signal to enter the room.
Michael’s patience hung by a thin thread. With each second that passed, Brian came closer and closer to losing it. “Give me the gun. Now,” Michael demanded, his voice louder and more forceful, his hand stretched out to receive it.
With steely resistance, Brian raised the revolver and pressed it to his temple. “I’m really going to miss you, Mike,” he wanly smiled. “Hey, do me a favor and watch over Barbara and the kids for me. She didn’t deserve any of this you know. Tell her I’m sorry and that I love her.”
“Why don’t you tell her yourself,” Michael said, as he lunged for Brian’s arm. In
their struggle on the bed, the gun went off, piercing quickly through the plastered ceiling and exiting through the roof. Behind them, the officers kicked in the door.
“Freeze! Police!”
Michael jumped to his feet and spun around to face them. Guns drawn, he stared down the barrels of half a dozen lethal weapons. Quick, he raised his arms offering no resistance. A nervous rookie took two steps toward the bed.
“Put down the weapon, you bastard,” the young rookie screamed at Brian.
In slow motion, Michael turned around toward Brian. The revolver was moving back toward his temple. Seeing the movement of the gun, the rookie cocked his gun, took aim and shouted one last warning. Michael saw the flash of fire and threw his body into the air. The bullet tore a searing path of heat through his left arm. The pain was blinding. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. He fell to the bed in a lifeless heap close to unconsciousness. Beneath him, Brian lay dead, shot in the chest by the same bullet that ripped through Michael’s arm.
The last noise Michael heard before he lost consciousness were the death gurgles that involuntarily escaped Brian’s throat, as his chest filled with blood that would silence him forever. In the blink of an eye, it was over, never to be the same again.
Three days later, Michael woke from a heavily-sedated sleep in the hospital. His eyes rolled then blinked as he tried desperately to focus on something in the room. Then his eyes fell upon Annie, curled in a lounge chair sleeping beside the bed. He attempted to sit up and groaned loudly in pain.
Annie’s eyes fluttered open when she heard his cry and bolted upright. “Michael! You’re awake,” she squealed and kissed him softly on the cheek.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell did they do to my arm?” he grimaced, straining his neck to see the thick plaster cast encasing his arm from his shoulder to forearm.
“Michael, don’t try and move it! Let me get your doctor.”
“Not yet. First tell me what they did to my fucking arm!”
Michael’s eyes were wild with pain and anger at being immobile.
Annie approached the bed and tried to choose the appropriate words to describe the micro nerve surgery the doctors had managed during the hours and hours of surgery they had done to try and save his arm. She sat beside the bed and took his right hand.
