by ML Gardner
I closed my eyes.
The officer making the call returned. “Cap’s on his way. Said damn good job, Sloan. He’s sending the coroner and the press. You wanna be the one to walk out with the body?”
I stared at the bust I had been living for. The one I lied and stole for. The one that was supposed to redeem me.
“No. You guys do it.”
“I never saw that coming,” Aryl said.
“Believe me, neither did I.”
“You were his mentor. He was supposed to be your…what did you call it…your protégé.”
“Yeah. I know. But, come to find out, he was the kid of a guy wrongly killed by the cops. It was vengeance. Plain and simple. Why he picked the ten he did we’ll never know. We went over it and over it and couldn’t figure that out. All we found is that years ago there was a bank robbery and his father was falsely identified by the clerk. When officers went to arrest him, he ran. They shot first and asked questions later. Fred was ten when it happened.”
“So he became a cop to get on the inside and get back at as many as he could?”
“Exactly. Or the best that we could figure out after the fact.”
“You look tired,” Aryl said. “If you want to get some sleep, I promise I’ll use moderation.”
“Nah. I’m bone tired but I can’t sleep after reliving all that. It got my blood pumping, you know?”
Aryl nodded.
“Less than twenty four hours.” Sloan nodded to the window. The moon was out in full show, lighting the surface of the ocean rippling by. They were beginning to close down the dining hall and Sloan gathered himself to leave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous about going home. I just meant that if we had anything else to tell each other, we’d best get it out tonight.
“Do you have anything else to say, Sloan?”
He smiled. “No, that’s pretty much it. I stayed busy trying to find a new normal at work until Goodwin called me with news of your telegram. Then I went to New York to see it for myself and then got on the very next ship to pick up Bellamy.”
Aryl sat back, brought his fingers together at the tips and tilted his head. “So, let me get this straight. You, Detective Sloan, had some guy turn up with my waterlogged wallet, dismissed him as crazy and while following a bunch of leads nowhere, became obsessed with Daniel Bellamy, convinced he was the cop killer using my identity to terrorize your precinct.
“After your guts exploded, you went to New York and found out more about me and my friends, went back home and became a suspect yourself. After you were cleared, you went to Rockport and talked to the phony psychic, which led you no where new. Waiting for the cop killer to show held you up until after Christmas.
“Then Detective Goodwin called saying he’d gotten my telegram. At which time, even though you had the cop killer mystery wrapped up, you were still convinced that who you were coming after was Daniel Bellamy. Until you saw me.”
Sloan nodded deeply. “Until I saw you.”
“Either way you would have gotten to bring someone home.”
“Yes, true. And unexpected as it was, I am very, very glad it was you and not him.”
Aryl smiled modestly. “It never is what you expect it to be, is it, Sloan?”
“No, Aryl, it isn’t.”
He looked at his watch. “Well, it’s nearly midnight. So what now…breakfast?” He laughed.
“Your wife will probably kill me for destroying your schedule.”
Sloan pinched his face and waved him off.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” Aryl asked as they stood to leave.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well, okay. If you insist on staying awake, I’ll tell you about the traitor we had in our midst.”
Sloan’s brow went up with interest. “Gina?”
“Oh, no. It’s never the one you expect it to be.”
“Kinsey?”
Aryl smiled devilishly.
Chapter Thirty
Small Endeavors
I had kept to myself after the incident with Dmitri. I still sat in the corner of Mickey’s office but interacted with him as little as possible. I refused his offers of drink and smoke and read a lot. He asked a lot less of me, almost as if he was trying to make up for what happened by letting me sit there all night and read.
He mentioned casually, as he sat with his head bent over his desk, that he would be sending me with Digby on that big run he talked about. I wasn’t surprised. I knew he was just waiting for me to heal up enough to have a presentable face.
“Fine,” I said, sounding somewhere between a grunt and a mumble.
“You guys will leave tomorrow, early afternoon. I want you guys back by nightfall. So if you want to call it a day and get some sleep, that’s fine.”
It irritated me how he tried to sound like he cared. I tossed my book aside without marking the page. It slid off the table and landed on the floor as I got up and walked out.
Digby had two crates carefully packed when I got to the storage room. I was still tired and not used to getting up in the middle of the day. And, of course, my attitude had changed dramatically after Mickey’s traitorous test of loyalty and Digby noticed.
“How you feelin’, John?” he asked, eyeing me with concern.
“Tired,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“Care for tea before we go? Help wake you up?”
“No, let’s just get this over with.”
“Cheer up, John. It’ll be a nice drive.”
I shrugged before I leaned over to heave up a crate.
Mickey had a newer car that Digby loved to drive. He was neurotic about keeping it meticulously clean. I tossed my bag in the passenger side and as I made to get in, he stopped me.
“Wipe your feet, please.”
“Excuse me?”
“Wipe your feet before you get in the car. Please.”
I rolled my eyes, turned around and moved my legs like an animal covering its scat.
“Is that good enough?” I asked as I got in.
“Fine, thanks. I’ll just put your bag in the back,” he said. Before I could take it, he lifted it over the seat and dropped it in the floorboard. My bottles clinked but by the sound of it, didn’t break.
We started making our way through the noise of the city. Digby seemed perfectly comfortable amidst it all but it was loud and warmer than I was used to, and I was grateful that nighttime suited me.
I was even more grateful when we turned onto a long dirt road and started heading into the countryside. I settled back into the seat and closed my eyes. Mickey said I had to come along. Not that I had to stay awake.
Sometime later the tire hit a pothole and it threw my head against the doorframe. I woke up suddenly and was less than cheery for it.
I held the side of my head while shooting Digby a dirty look.
“You wanna take it easy?”
“Sorry, these back roads are awful.”
I grunted and tried to get settled again, but now the sun was in my eyes and I had a headache.
“Can I ask you something, John?”
“What,” I grumbled with my eyes closed.
“Is Mickey ever gonna find out who got you a couple weeks ago?”
I opened my eyes. “Who got me?”
“Yeah. He said a couple guys caught you on the way to that delivery and kicked you around before they stole the opiates.”
“Is that what Mickey told you?” I asked, turning to look at him slowly.
“Yeah.” His eyes darted over to me several times, no doubt trying to decipher the look on my face.
“Digby, Mickey is a lying bastard.”
His head flew over quickly. “What do you mean, John?”
It really didn’t matter if I told him the truth. And if it did, I really didn’t care. I filled him in on exactly what kind of boss he practically worshiped. I knew it would get back to Mickey. It astonished me how little I cared and how ready I was to deal with the con
sequences.
He was quiet for a long time as he drove. I’m sure tarnishing the reputation of his beloved father figure had completely destroyed his world. Or at least ruined his day.
After a long silence he looked as if he wanted to talk.
“I guess…I knew that was the kind of man he was.”
“You’d have to be blind not to see that, Dig.”
He started laughing and then let the floodgates open. “Yeah, alright. I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve always known. In fact, I knew where you were and what was happening to you. I’ve had Mickey pegged for a long time, see. I’ve known that I wasn’t nothin’ but a tool for him. But I got my reasons why I play stupid. Bet I had you fooled with that wide eyed little boy lost act, didn’t I?”
He smiled and right before my eyes morphed into someone I hardly recognized as Digby. He shed the slumped shouldered compact posture and the skittish eyes and grinned at me like an evil leprechaun.
“Yeah…Digby. You had me fooled,” I said cautiously.
“I got everybody fooled,” he said and lit a smoke, holding the steering wheel with his knee.
“So. You pretty pissed at Mickey?” He asked as he exhaled a large grey cloud.
“Yes, you could say that.”
He nodded slowly with the cigarette hanging from his mouth, squinting at the road before him.
“Why’d you slow down?” I asked him.
“So we can talk.”
“You can’t talk and drive faster?”
“What would you say if I told you that my little act all these long years was about to pay off.”
“I’m not following.”
“See, Mickey trusts me more than most people. Maybe more than Gina. I haven’t decided yet. But no matter, if I was all alone and all his product were to disappear on this trip, well, he might see through my innocent act. But now, I’ve got you. And Mickey trusts you to the ends of the earth at the moment.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“It’s simple.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “We unload the product somewhere else, hide the cash and then tell Mickey we got robbed on the way to the new client. Of course we’d have to take a few swings at each other to make it look convincing.”
I didn’t have time to protest before he pulled over to the side of the road in a plume of smoke.
“Think about it, John. He’d never know. How could he, unless one of us told him and we’d never!”
I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous.” Much as I wanted to get Mickey back—and get him where it hurt—I had a bad feeling about this.
“Are you loyal? Or scared?”
“I’m smart. It’s not a good idea.”
“I’ve got a buyer all lined up.”
My face showed how little this impressed me.
“C’mon, John. It’ll be easy!” His face changed, as if realizing something. “Oh, I know. You’re worried I’m testing you. That maybe Mickey put me up to this.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me, Digby.” I turned and faced the window, wishing he’d just get on with driving.
“Well, I’m not. And I’m prepared to prove to you I’m not.”
I ignored him.
“Don’t you even want to know how I’d prove it?”
“No, Digby. Not really.”
Frustrated, he pulled out onto the road again. After a few miles he started talking again.
“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. See, I’ve been planning this for awhile now. This is just too good of an opportunity for me to let pass. And all this while, since I found out Mickey was sending you with me, I’ve included you in these plans. I can’t do it without you, John.”
“Well, I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Digby. Count me out.”
He sighed and let his shoulders slump down. “I figured you’d say that,” he said. “Which is why I knew I had to have something on you. Something that would make it so you had no choice.”
“You don’t have anything on me, Digby. I’m Mickey’s most trusted person right now, remember?”
He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly. “Not so. Not so. I do have something.”
He began to speed up. Soon we were racing through the countryside. The car was unsteady, unable to keep traction on the dirt road.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Making it so you can’t jump,” he said, grinning. “We’re going to get some things straight. See, I know something about you. And it involves Gina. And if you don’t agree to do this with me, I’ll tell Mickey everything I know when we get back.”
“You’re lying.”
“Test me,” he dared, dropping his smile.
“No. I’ll go tell him myself about me and Gina. You think I care if you do? You think he’ll care if I’ve been to her flat or that she stays in my room? You think that’s enough to get me to do this with you?” I was not only angry, but more than a little afraid. He was racing through the countryside, taking curves at dangerous speeds, fishtailing and skidding all over the road.
“Well, that with what I was originally holding back. I didn’t know a thing about you and Gina being together.” He smiled arrogantly. “But thanks for putting the odds more in my favor, John. And you’re wrong. Mickey would kill you if he found out about that.”
“Digby, slow down.”
“What I know about you and Gina is this. She sneaks into the inventory room. She takes opiates and gives them to you. Mickey doesn’t know you’re hooked, does he?”
“He knows I need it for my back,” I lied, holding on to the dashboard. “Now slow down!”
“No, no, no,” he whispered. “You haven’t needed it for pain in a long time. You need it now or it will bring you pain. You got the monster deep inside and you can’t get away from it, can you, John? You’re trapped. And if you don’t give it what it wants, it’ll eat you alive, twist your insides, crush your brain against your skull. Make you loud and angry…make you hurt people.”
He had my full attention now and I put on a blank unmoving face.
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” He smiled as he reached down and pulled my bottle of opiate tonic from the floor board. The car veered dangerously, crossing to the other side.
“Found this in your bag while you were sleeping.”
I was at a loss for words, but Digby had plenty.
“So. You do this with me, or I tell Mickey. And you know what he’ll do? He’ll lock you in a room and watch you. And after a few hours when you start to sweat and shake, you won’t be able to hide it. He’ll know the truth. And he’ll know that Gina has been helping you.”
I was boiling angry. Not that Mickey would find out, or even that Gina would face him for this, too. I was angry because Digby was trying to take it away. And that simply wasn’t an option.
I reached over and yanked the steering wheel as hard as I could. Digby looked stunned as he struggled to keep control of the car. We wrestled over it and the tires made an awful screeching noise as the car made hard lilts to the left and right.
Then the car veered off, grinding over a ditch and going airborne into a field. As we hit the ground my door wrenched open and I flew out, landing on my back with a bone crushing thud.
The car went on to roll twice and when it came to a stop on its side, there was no movement from inside. I lay stunned for a moment, staring at the clouds. Nothing hurt and that amazed me. I rolled over and got on all fours, taking deep breaths before pushing up and going to the car.
When I peered inside, Digby was smashed against the broken glass of the window, obviously dead. I fell back onto the grass and tried to figure out what to do next.
Afternoon clouds began to overshadow the sun toward the evening. For a long time I sat, wondering what to do. Wondering what I’d done. I swore after Yurik I wouldn’t be responsible for another life. But here I sat staring at Digby. Responsible.
For whatever reason I was mad at Mickey. It made it easier to scuttle the
blame to him and when I did, a plan came together very quickly. The vast field was empty save a few haystacks dotted about. Near the ditch, both crates lay scratched and splintered but not destroyed.
My bag had been thrown into the front and lay against Digby’s body. I managed to get it out and brush it off. Then I carried the crates to the nearest haystack and dug out a hole on the far side, stuffing them inside and covering them the best I could. It left a messy blight on the haystack, but Mickey would never see it if he or any of his men came out here to get the car and Digby’s body.
After the crates were hidden I walked back to the car and opened the passenger door so it was standing on end, as if someone had crawled out. Staring at Digby in some mix of a pathetic apology and goodbye.
No one here was who they seemed. Me included.
I remembered one thing that would catch Mickey’s eye, and reached in past Digby’s broken body for the bottle he’d taken from my bag. I slipped it in my pocket and started walking back to the warehouse.
After I got it all worked out what I was going to say to Mickey, I realized my body did hurt. Like hell. I felt like a walking bruise and as I made my way back into the city well after dark, I took the bottle from my pocket and found relief.
I ran into Kinsey about three blocks from the warehouse. He looked angry and demanded to know where I’d been. I told him there had been an accident and as I stepped into the light and he saw how roughed up I was, he relaxed a little.
“Where’s Digby?”
“Dead,” I said as I walked past him.
He walked me to Mickey’s office. Soon as he saw me, Mickey came out of his chair and ordered everyone out of the room.
“Where have you been, Johnny boy?” he asked with mingled concern and anger.
“We, ah…had an accident. We were on our way and swerved to avoid a dog.”
“Digby?”
I shook my head. “He’s still with the car.”
Mickey sat back. “Dammit,” he said under his breath. For a moment he actually looked moved.
“What about the opiates?” he asked.
