by Ray Garton
His full name was Ramsey von Pohle. Back in school, whenever a new teacher mispronounced his last name—and they all did, usually pronouncing it “von Pole”—Ram would say with a glare, “It rhymes with ‘holy.’” He hated the name Ramsey and would allow it only once. If someone called him Ramsey after being told to call him Ram, his face would become dead. All the features would relax, his eyelids would lower halfway, and he would stare at that person for a long moment with no expression on his face, no emotion in his eyes. It was a frightening thing to see, and if that look was aimed at you, it meant that you’d better stay out of Ram’s way if you knew what was good for you. If you didn’t, he might humiliate you in public or beat you up when he knew none of the teachers were looking. But he didn’t need a reason to do any of those things.
He had killer looks back then: golden blond hair and a sullen, pouty face the girls loved, and he was the school’s star quarterback, so he got away with all the bullying and harassing. When Andy learned he’d become a cop, he wasn’t surprised. It was a job that would allow Ram to continue bullying and harassing people with impunity.
Andy had been the kind of boy that Ram, and every guy like him, loved to torment. His father had died of a heart attack when Andy was only four years old. Heart disease ran in his father’s family, and even though Andy had been adopted when he was only a few days old, his mother feared that he would have the same fate. She became obsessed with his health and micromanaged his life. She made him take several doses of vitamin supplements a day, and if he forgot to take them to school in his lunchbox, she would show up in the middle of a class and give them to him. She prohibited him from doing anything that might result in sickness or injury, which included virtually everything. She was afraid to let him play any sports, so he never learned how, and he didn’t get much exercise because she didn’t like him to play outside, so he got fat. She was afraid of every possible sickness or wound, and that made him afraid, too.
Whenever he spotted Andy, Ram’s brooding face lit up and he headed in Andy’s direction. “Hey, mommy’s boy!” he’d call, and his entourage would laugh as they came toward him. The entourage unfailingly included the most beautiful and coveted girls ever to walk the halls of Eureka High, and they always laughed as Ram gave him titty-twisters, or wedgies, or pulled his hair, or dragged him to the bathroom to wash his face in the toilet.
Ram seemed to enjoy picking on Andy more than any of his other targets. Looking back on it, Andy supposed it was because of his fear. He was afraid of everything back then. An unexpected noise could make him jump out of his seat. It was probably quite comical to everyone else, which would explain why Andy was laughed at so much while he was growing up.
Andy had spent his whole life working on himself, trying to make improvements, strengthen his weaknesses, and undo what his mother had done. He did not want to go on being that weak, frightened boy who, if allowed, would have lived the rest of his days jumping at every noise and flying into a panic with every ache or pain.
He was in high school when it became clear that his mother was the source of his problems. He loved her, but he had to get away from her. Andy became determined to get into a college out of town. That turned out to be Berkeley, where he studied business and spent any free time he had adjusting to a life his mother did not control. After graduating, he stayed in the Bay Area and lived in an apartment that never felt like home and worked a series of jobs in which he never felt comfortable. He stayed in the Bay Area for a few years, but never felt like anything more than a visitor whose life had no direction.
He went home for Christmas one year and learned that the Cuppa Joe Diner was for sale. It was a popular breakfast and lunch spot and the owner was selling only because he’d been diagnosed with cancer. Andy became captivated by the idea of owning and operating that diner and leading a quiet life in the town where he’d grown up, but as an adult, not as his mother’s little boy. He ate lunch there every day while he was in town, and that was where he met Jodi, a waitress at the Cuppa Joe.
She was everything he wasn’t—attractive, charming, funny, and she was a talented musician who could play both guitar and piano, among other instruments. She had long, wheat-colored hair, a crooked smile, and squinty eyes that always had a sparkle.
In the next year, it all came together with startling ease. He got the diner, moved back to Eureka, and started seeing Jodi.
She was a drug addict. She was clean when he met her, but that was something new for her, and it was a daily battle. She’d recently broken up with her boyfriend, Vic, who was also her dealer. She stopped seeing the friends with whom she got high because she wanted to stay clean and knew that would be impossible with those people in her life. It was clear to Andy from the start that she wanted to be free of drugs and stay clean, and he wanted to help her. Jodi needed him, and Andy discovered how desperately he needed to be needed.
Andy’s mother was opposed to all of it and warned him that buying the diner, and later, marrying Jodi, would result in disaster. That convinced him that he was doing the right thing.
Andy and Jodi ran the diner together at first. She had a couple of relapses, but they were brief and Andy encouraged her to move past them quickly and focus on staying clean. She got pregnant and had a baby boy, whom they named Donald, after Jodi’s brother, who’d died of pneumonia when they were kids.
Having a son made Andy feel like a new man—it made him feel the need to be a new man, anyway. A more responsible and aware man. He had a son to raise, an entire human life to launch, and he wanted to make sure he was up to the task. He began exercising, taking better care of himself, lost thirty pounds, bought some life insurance, and tried to learn as much as he could about football and baseball and other sports because he wanted his son to enjoy all the things he hadn’t as a boy.
Andy found much joy in being a father, but there were a few perils. He often found himself thinking like his mother, being overprotective, paranoid, wanting to control every aspect of Donny’s life from top to bottom in order to keep him safe. It was disturbingly easy to fall into that kind of behavior and he had to fight it. It helped him understand his mother a little better. Fortunately, she wasn’t around to encourage Andy’s inclinations because the year after Donny was born, she’d moved to Oregon to take care of her older sister, who’d broken her back in a car accident.
For a while, Andy had a good life. It was so good that he forgot it had ever been otherwise. He seemed to forget that his wife was a recovering drug addict. He’d become wrapped up in the business of running the diner alone while Jodi stayed home with Donny, and he did not see the changes taking place in her. He could see them in hindsight, which was always so infuriatingly crystal clear, but it was too late by then. He didn’t notice her restlessness and agitation, her weight loss, the change in her temperament. She started spending a lot of time with her sister Leah in the evenings, staying out later and later.
One day, he came home from work to find Donny watching TV alone. Jodi was gone, as were most of her clothes. Donny had no idea where she’d gone because she’d left while he was in his bedroom doing homework, and she had not left a message of any kind. When he called Leah, he learned that Jodi had not been spending any time with her sister lately, and Leah had no idea where she’d been going, or where she might have gone. But they both knew she was using again.
Jodi had gone back to Vic. Andy was surprised when she filed for divorce, and shocked when she asked for full custody of Donny. He was certain she’d never get it with a history of drug addiction and a live-in boyfriend who was a known drug dealer with a record. But Jodi had done nothing to show that she was using again, and she wasn’t living with Vic. She’d been set up in a nice two-story house that she couldn’t possibly afford on her own, and she suddenly had a good job at a law firm. Jodi didn’t know anything about law and had no interest in it. But it seemed Vic’s fortunes had improved since he and Jodi were last an item, and he was now in a position to pull a few strings a
nd help Jodi get full custody of their son. That included hiring for her a killer of a divorce lawyer who specialized in custody cases. And it worked. Andy got supervised visits every two weeks.
It made Andy sick. He became an insomniac and, for about six weeks, he started to drink too much. He put a quick stop to that. For more than a year after the divorce, Vic was nowhere in sight. Andy hired a private investigator to keep an eye on Jodi’s house for a while, then to check back regularly to see if she was still living alone. A couple of months ago, he reported that Vic had started spending a lot of time at the house. A month later, Vic moved in, and after that, the house was never quiet. People came and went at all hours of the day and night, and parties lasted for days. Neighbors complained to the police twice, once about loud music, and a second time about what sounded like gunshots.
The news about gunshots scared the hell out of Andy because it meant Donny was in danger. He talked to his attorney about filing for full custody, but was told it would be a long shot and very expensive because her attorney would drag it out. If Andy wanted something done, he would have to do it himself, but he had no idea what that should be. He needed advice.
A few days after Andy met with his lawyer, he had to go to the courthouse to fill out some paperwork for his business license renewal and on the way in, he ran into Ram coming out. Andy cringed inside when Ram headed toward him, expecting to hear, “Hey, mommy’s boy!” But he was left speechless when Officer von Pohle smiled and offered his hand to shake and said, “It’s been a long time, Andy. You’d think we’d run into each other now and then in a town this small. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
Andy had seen Ram often enough since moving back to Eureka, but he was always careful to avoid an encounter. He would have avoided this one if he’d seen it coming. He’d seen Ram on the job and in his off hours with his wife and children, and he appeared to be a perfectly civilized family man. But Andy had always suspected he was still a sadist and probably tormented his children or beat his wife, or something. Ram did nothing to confirm that suspicion and was warm and jovial and seemed genuinely happy to see Andy. He said he’d been meaning to come to Andy’s diner for a bite, but he worked the other side of town and hadn’t gotten to it yet. Andy was so impressed with Ram’s friendliness that he invited him to come for lunch the next day, on the house.
Ram showed up and Andy seated him in a booth. Once he’d ordered, Andy asked Ram if he’d mind some company and sat down across from him.
Ram looked a lot different these days. He’d gained weight and lost his looks. His face was puffy rather than pouty, and his blond hair surrounded a bald spot on top of his head. But there was no menace in his face, no cruel delight in his eyes, just a relaxed smile. Andy said he needed some advice, and then told Ram about Jodi and Donny, the divorce, and the custody battle, and the most recent developments. Ram’s bacon cheeseburger arrived and he went on listening as he ate.
Andy began to get concerned when he saw some dark shadows fall over Ram’s eyes as he listened to Andy’s story. A frown and a vague look of anger settled into his face.
“Are you talking about Vic Delko?” Ram said when Andy was done.
“That’s the guy. You know him?”
“You kidding? Word is he’s made some distribution deal with somebody in Sacramento. I thought he’d mellowed out, but I think he’s just gotten smoother. He’s busier than ever and making a lot of money. And a lot of connections, I think. But I don’t think he’s doing anything here in town, or even in this county, not anymore. Unless he’s made some kind of deal with Giff Clancy. He’s the drug source around here and he gets real cranky when there’s competition. Sorry to hear about your wife, Andy. Really. I mean, of all people to hook up with. Hearing this makes me angry. Because of your son. Kids have no control over their lives, so it’s the responsibility of adults to take care of them. She’s not taking care of your son. That pisses me off.”
“I don’t know what to do. My attorney tells me I’ll never get custody through the courts, but I don’t know what else I can—”
“The courts are stacked against fathers,” Ram said, shaking his head. “Even if the mother is a piece of shit on toast, she’s got a strong chance of getting custody. It stinks, but that’s the way it is. Forget about court. You just need somebody to convince your wife that the boy doesn’t belong with her and her boyfriend and to give up custody.”
Andy chuckled coldly. “Yeah, like that’s a service you can find on Google.”
“Let me take care of it, Andy.”
“What? I mean, I don’t expect you to—”
“It would be nothing. Really. And I owe it to you. For all the times I was so hard on you in school.”
Andy was speechless. He stared at Ram with his mouth hanging open and felt a twinge in his chest, surprised by how powerful those simple words were, hearing Ram admit that all that torture was not business as usual because Andy deserved it for being different and not fitting in, but that it was wrong and done out of cruelty.
When he saw the dumbfounded look on Andy’s face, Ram smiled and said, “I know it took a long time, but . . . well, growing up and having a family of your own . . . it makes life look a lot different.”
Andy said, “Thank you, Ram. That means a lot. But I don’t understand. What can you do?”
“Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you. Okay?”
He’d finally gotten back to Andy that afternoon.
Andy’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Ram.
“I’m pulling up to your house right now,” he said. “Get out here.”
Andy put on his raincoat and flipped the hood over his head, then hurried out the door and locked it. He turned to face the stormy night. Ram’s police cruiser waited in the driveway. The front passenger’s side door opened and Andy rushed through the wind and rain and got in.
“Listen to me closely, Andy,” Ram said. “We’re going over to your wife’s house. We’ll go to the door and you’ll knock. Soon as we get in, you find your son and take him out of the house and wait here in the car. Got that?”
“What if she won’t let me in? What if somebody else answers the door and won’t let me in?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get in.” He smiled briefly. “I’m a cop.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Then I’ll convince your wife that she needs to do the right thing and transfer full custody to you.”
“And . . . how will you do that?”
“Leave that up to me, okay? Don’t worry about it.”
He said nothing more as they drove through the storm. But in spite of Ram’s instruction, he worried.
13
Dr. Corcoran loved science women. Always had. Especially young science women. He loved them even more now than he had when he was young, because when you’re young, you don’t appreciate what you have. He wasn’t young anymore, but unlike most men his age, he was still fucking them. He used to call them “science chicks” but some of them hadn’t appreciated that—although it was an improvement over “science pussy,” a phrase he’d used in high school, back when he was the leader of his clique of one and had no chance in hell of gaining access to any pussy, “science” or otherwise. But those days were long gone.
He was especially fond of young Asian science women, like Holly Im, a delicious copper-skinned goddess of Korean descent with what might be—he hadn’t quite decided yet, but they might be—the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. He chewed on his lower lip and made a groaning sound as he watched those breasts sway while Holly bent at the waist and snorted a couple of lines of white powder he’d put on the bathroom counter for her. She’d removed her top just a moment ago and hung it from the knob of the closed door. Her breasts jiggled with each snort and, from his angle, he caught glimpses of the dark, erect nipples. He passed his eyes along her body to the top of her jeans, which hugged her round ass so nicely, down to her delicate bare feet, and then back up again.
/> He chuckled and muttered, “Science pussy.” As he watched her, he moved his hips to the beat of the music from the other room. He didn’t recognize it—something new that Eileen had put on, probably, and he just wasn’t interested in new music—but he liked that beat.
Corcoran had made the white powder himself, his own concoction. Drove women crazy. Made them wet almost instantly. He’d already imbibed and was flying high, but it wouldn’t be a party until she’d had some. It was the perfect snack for hanging out in the bathroom with a hot, young freak like Holly. And she was a freak. She needed no help from drugs. The drugs turned her into an animal, made her crazy. Without the drugs, she’d be game for an orgy. With them, she’d start one. That’s why he’d brought her into the bathroom. He wanted her all to himself after those first couple of lines.
Holly suddenly stood upright, back rigid, face upturned, eyes clenched, fingers splayed, and said, “Oh, fuck, yeah!”
Corcoran grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“Who’re you callin’ girl?” she said, spinning around to face him. “It’s chick, remember? Science chick.” She gave him a naughty smile as she moved close, ran her hands up his arms to his neck and slid her fingers through his frizzy hair as she rubbed her body against him.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” he said. “I’m so used to that being politically incorrect.”
“I like it. Girl is politically incorrect, too. But I don’t like it, so I wouldn’t care if it wasn’t.” She spoke just above a whisper, breathing hard.
Corcoran turned to the big mirror over the two sinks and watched Holly rub herself against him, passing her hands up and down over his body. He liked the way the side of her breast bulged when she pressed it against him hard enough. He wore a black T-shirt with a picture of Einstein sticking out his tongue on the front, a pair of camo scrub pants, and sandals.
