by R Weir
“Bullshit,” I answered. “You know it and I know it. Let’s cut the crap. Why were you here? And have you been following Emily? That leg isn’t getting any better and the more you stall, the longer it takes to get some pain meds. The police don’t care much for you either. You were ranting and raving in the office and punched an innocent man. Now, why were you here?” I made a motion like I would mess with his injured leg, which got his attention as he lunged in fear.
“OK. Yeah, sure, I came here to try and get my job back. The place I’m at now is going under, out of business. We’ve been struggling for a while. The owner is pulling the plug. I thought I could save them, but I can’t. I need a job. I’m in debt up to my ears.”
“So you showed up and caused a scene.”
“Hey, she contacted me first, saying come on down and we’ll have lunch. When I arrived she wouldn’t see me, and her goons said I wasn’t wanted and threatened to call the police. That was when I lost it.”
“And you punched one of her partners?”
He refused to answer that one, but you could tell from his face he wasn’t denying it.
“And before today, have you been stalking her?”
He glanced down at his feet. He didn’t seem to want to admit anything more, so I threatened the leg again. He tensed up and spoke.
“OK, once or twice I followed her. I was trying to find a way to contact her. Besides, she is so beautiful. I wanted to impress her and find some avenue back into her life. She was awesome that one night we had sex. So much better than some of these girls I sleep with. She is a real woman.”
He was still keeping up the act they had slept together. It was a fantasy to him, for he truly believed they did. Did he also kill the dog?
“And what about Opus,” I stated to him. “Did you kill him? Stab him to death?”
He appeared generally surprised, the first honest look he’d had. “What? Who is Opus? Stab him, are you crazy!”
“You were in Emily’s home, grabbed a knife and you stabbed the dog to death when it started barking at you. You had to shut it up before it gave you away?”
“Dog! What the hell are you talking about? You think I killed her dog? You are crazy!”
I kicked the leg of the chair he was sitting on to spook him some more. “Yes, you stabbed it until it couldn’t bark anymore. The poor thing never stood a chance against you.”
He stared at me with glazed-over eyes. I figured he was half crazy, but I wasn’t sure what to believe about the dog. But if he’d been following her, it seemed right that he killed Opus as well.
“I’m not saying anything else?” he stated. “I want a lawyer.”
I assumed I could twist him some more, but I had had enough. I called in the officer who had been listening at the door. Rickie had confessed to the assault and harassment, so jail time was in his future. He dragged him out and took him to the paramedics so they could work on his leg.
As I walked in Emily was standing there with a relieved expression on her face. “So was it him?” she asked me.
“He said he had been following you,” I replied. “He didn’t admit killing the dog, but there’s a good chance it was him. Not sure telling the truth is in his nature. How is your business partner?”
“Broken nose, but he’ll be fine. He is anxious to press charges, as are all of us. Hopefully, this will end it.” She paused and gave a huge sigh. “So, do you think it’s over?”
I didn’t want to say yes, but the evidence said it was likely. “I would say so. Time will tell. I’m still concerned about Mark. He may have some involvement somewhere. I’m trying to put some pieces together. If you want me to leave it alone, I will. Need to make sure you’re safe.”
She checked around and tried to sum up her emotions. You could see the relief, along with the uncertainty. I know she wanted to get on with her life, have something normal again. Closure was in sight, but still there was some doubt.
“I think I’m good. Will you be available if I need you?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be nearby and you have my number. I plan on looking into a couple of things with Mark. But at no charge.”
“Well, I won’t be back in my house now until Saturday,” she said. “I’ll stay at my friend’s for the next few nights. We talked about going to Boone’s for a drink afterwards tonight. If you’re worried, you can keep an eye on my back if you want.”
She had a nice back, and backside, so that didn’t sound like a bad idea. I could sit in Boone’s, have a beer or two, catch the game and make sure she was safe.
“That sounds good. What time?”
“Probably seven or so. I can text you when.” She stopped as if she’d remembered something. “Oh, I plan on having a barbeque at my house Saturday night starting at four to celebrate our new client. We landed the job. We found out for sure this afternoon. Everyone from work is coming. You’re invited, of course, if you can make it.”
“Sounds good. I love barbeque. May I ask a friend?”
“Is this your lady friend?” she asked.
“Yes, we are going to the Rockies game tomorrow night. I’d like to bring her if she can handle two nights in a row in my company!”
“But of course. She is welcome. And how can she refuse a good-looking guy like you.” She came over and hugged me, that wonderful perfume she wore radiating from her skin. “Thanks for all you’ve done.”
I think I might have blushed at another of her warm embraces. I hoped she still felt the same when she got my bill.
Chapter 17
I spent most of the rest of the afternoon talking with the police down at their headquarters. First the Greenwood Village officers, then Detective Mallard showed up with some more questions. A discussion about jurisdiction, or better described as an argument over which crime took precedence, ensued. It was decided since he was a resident of Greenwood Village and Arapahoe County they would charge him there with Assault, Harassment and Disturbing the Peace. Further charges filed in Denver County including stalking, menacing, breaking and entering, and cruelty to animals. A few others would be added later once they’d combed through the penal code. The DA stated the more the better.
Now in custody, Rickie shut up and had requested a lawyer. He likely couldn’t afford one, so the court legally had to appoint him one. With no bail money he’d spend the next day or two in jail before he was arraigned. For now he wasn’t talking anymore and refused to admit to anything. Most of what he told me likely wouldn’t be admissible, and he would probably claim I forced it out of him. As the afternoon wore down exhaustion was hitting my psyche.
“So do you think it will hold up?” I asked Mallard.
“Hard to say,” he replied. “They certainly have him on the things he did at your client’s office. I like him for the stalking and the killing of the dog. Talking with him yesterday was painful, and I didn’t much care for him as he’s a serial liar. Seems to live in his own little world.”
Mallard was dressed basically as I’d seen him the last two days. I started to wonder if he lived in the same suit or all of them were alike. Even the tie was the same. His closet at home must be boring.
“I plan on keeping an eye on her. I figure he’ll be in jail for a few days. I doubt he’ll make bail. I think he is broke from the way he was talking. So she should be safe for now.”
“Can I drop you anywhere?” asked Mallard.
“Back to Emily’s office so I can get my car, that would be ideal. I’m going to go home and clear the brain and head to Boone’s. She is meeting friends there, so I figured I’d be nearby. I enjoy their smoked chicken wings, chicken tenders or even their juicy burgers, so dinner out tonight. One last meal on the expense report.”
He dropped me off and I got into the Mustang slowly, feeling the day’s events. I needed gas again before heading home, the needle was brushing E. Calling Brandon Sparks and giving him an update crossed my mind, but I decided against it. I wasn’t sure about his involvement, but I wanted to see what
he learned through his connections. His reach was extensive, and his men seemed to scare the hell out of Mark’s former lawyer.
Once home I set the alarm and laid down to rest. I often found even a sixty-minute nap did me wonders. I fell asleep immediately but still had dreams of the events. The chase on foot was running through my thoughts, from beginning to end, until it started up again. The buzzing alarm sounded and I jumped straight up, startled and confused. Looking around, I realized I was at home. The room was warm and I went to turn on the air. I splashed some water on my face and had a long drink of ice-cold water. A fresh shirt, deodorant and mild cologne to cover the stench of the day. I checked the phone and it was almost 7PM. There was a text from Emily saying she and her friends would be at Boone’s by 7:15.
Boone’s was a popular sports bar that drew a fairly diverse crowd. From college-aged students that went to Denver University, which was nearby, to thirtysomethings like me who enjoyed the drink and food, to even an older group that desired a friendly place to go. They did most of the usual things you see in sports bars at Boone’s: karaoke, trivia, Texas Hold’em and, of course, Happy Hours where getting drunk was cheaper. They also had pool tables, pinball machines and dartboards. Top it all off with some excellent bar food, mostly handmade right there onsite.
As I walked in, Nick, the bartender, gave me his usual thumbs-up gesture. The place was busy, and I found myself a spot at the bar where I had full view of the premises. In the back lounge I saw Emily with two female friends, one of whom I recognized as her assistant, Jeanine. They were talking up a storm and laughing loudly, heard even above the other noises in the place. I imagined a Sex in the City-type racy conversation going on, though who was to say. It might have been work gossip, but it was fun to imagine they were gabbing about something spicier. Oftentimes, television was more exciting than real life.
I ordered up a beer and a basket of chicken wings. I wanted the ones that weren’t so hot that they burned a hole in my stomach and chose the Jack’s BBQ. Some wings are too much for me, but these were perfect. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get sauce on my shirt and face, as wearing a bib would hurt my gumshoe image.
Glancing at the TV I saw the game tonight was the Cardinals and the Pirates. The Rockies were off today, as they were travelling home. Both St Louis and Pittsburgh were battling it out for first place. It had been twenty-plus years since Pittsburgh had been in the playoffs, and it was pleasant to see them competitive again. Their manager, Clint Hurdle, had taken the Rockies to the World Series in 2007 and it was good to see him successful, even on a different team. He’d always been popular in Denver.
I paced myself on drinking since I wasn’t sure how long the ladies planned on staying, and getting drunk wouldn’t be a good state to be in if something happened. I added some fries with a second helping of chicken wings and started drinking soda after finishing my beer. I was full of food when I spied a man walking up to their table an hour after I’d gotten there. He stood pretty tall, and stocky, wearing a black sports coat, dark slacks and a loose, striped tie. He acted as if he knew Emily and tried to strike up a conversation with her, even waving the waitress over to pay for a round of drinks for them all. Emily appeared to be polite to him but seemed insistent on him going away. He was persistent but soon gave up after being shot down by her. He returned to his table where his friends ribbed him about his failure. He kept checking back over his shoulder at her with a scornful look on his brow. For all I knew, it was a simple pickup attempt on a pretty lady. But I made a mental note of his face for future reference. When the bartender came over, I asked if he recognized him.
“He comes in from time to time,” Nick answered. “Not every day, but I’ve seen him before. I don’t know his name.”
“What about the ladies over there?” I said, while nodding at Emily’s group. “Do they come in often?”
“Sure. There are lots of faces in here. The regulars at the bar like you I’m familiar with. Maybe I should ask Julie. She is here almost every night working. She would know those at the tables better than me.”
He waved Julie over, and she stood behind the bar next to Nick. He introduced us.
“Happy to meet you,” she said cheerfully.
“Julie, can you tell me anything about the guy over there at the table. The one with the black sports coat and striped tie?” I pointed him out to her while trying to remain inconspicuous.
“Sure, that is Jim. He is in here a few times a month. Pretty good tipper and a bit of a quiet guy, until he’s had too much to drink. Any reason why?”
“Have you ever seen him talk with Emily over there before? She’s in booth with the two other ladies.” I gestured in their direction.
“Sure, I know Emily, and yeah, I think I have seen him approach her before. She shoots him down every time. Quitting is not in his vocabulary.”
“Do you remember him approaching anyone else in here?”
“Now that you mention it, no. I don’t take notice of stuff like that all that often. I’m pretty busy most of the time, especially during the after work hours. Sometimes this place is wall-to-wall patrons. Not my business who is hitting on or attempting to pick up whom so long as they tip well and behave themselves. Some men become a little grab-ass after a few.”
“Thanks, Julie.” I handed her a ten-dollar bill for her time.
“Thank you,” she answered as she hustled back to her tables.
For the rest of the evening I kept an eye on Jim. He was talking some and drinking slowly with his friends. The ribbing had stopped and he often glanced back at Emily, though he tried to make it seem he wasn’t. After a while he caught me watching him, and one time our eyes met for about thirty seconds. He looked away, his head turned down in thought. He finished his drink and headed to the restroom. He returned a few minutes later, laid down some money, said his goodbyes and left the bar.
As he went out the front door I paid my check and soon was following. The parking for Boone’s is in the back, and you walk along Evans and up Downing. As I came around the corner I figured I’d see his car lights leaving in the dark, but instead I got clobbered on the side of the head with something hard. I was down with a thud but not completely out as I hit the pavement. I heard rapid footsteps and a car start up. I tried to raise my head only to see halos of light. I made an effort to stand up but failed. Two people came over to me and asked if I was OK. I did my best to answer but couldn’t form the words. I threw up right there as the nausea overwhelmed me. I’m sure they thought I was drunk, had fallen down and kept on going. Time passed, who knows how much, before I got to my feet, pulling myself together while sauntering back to Boone’s, bracing against the outside wall and window. The lump on the side of my head was growing, and I needed a bag of ice. I clutched at it to check for blood but didn’t find any. People near the door stared at me as I staggered in. Nick saw me and came around to help.
“Damn, you hadn’t drank that much!” he stated.
“Someone hit me in the head. Can you get me some ice?”
He sat me at an open bar stool and returned with a big bag of ice. I placed it on the lump and tried to concentrate on something other than the pain. Right now about four Advil and sleep was required, but I had to clear the cobwebs first.
“Should I call the cops?” Nick asked.
“No. I didn’t see who did it. So it wouldn’t help any. Just let me sit here until the eyes clear. Do you have Advil?”
“Sure. Wait here.”
He brought me the bottle and a glass of water. Since my stomach was empty now I needed more food, as taking Ibuprofen on an empty stomach wasn’t advised. I ordered simple chicken fingers to fill the void. I tried to eat one and the nausea returned, which wasn’t a good sign.
“Maybe you should call a paramedic,” I told Nick. I sensed someone grabbing me to keep me from falling to the floor as I passed out again.
After a blow to the head, there isn’t much you remember about the time you’re out. No dreams, just th
e realization of the pain in your skull radiating through your mind. I awoke to a horrible smell under my nose, rising up quickly as someone grabbed hold of me. The eyes eventually came into focus and a female paramedic was there, using smelling salts to revive me. I was laying on a gurney in the middle of Boone’s, several people surrounding me. It was probably the most popular I’d ever been at a bar.
“Easy now,” she said. “I’m here to help you. You passed out and have a large bump on your head. What’s your name? Do you know where you’re at? Do you remember what happened?”
“How long was I out?” I asked.
“About ten minutes,” she answered. “We got the call and were nearby so we arrived quickly. Needed to wake you up and see how you felt.”
“Well, my head hurts quite a bit.”
“Not surprised. Someone clocked you with the wood handle of a shovel. They found it broken in two out on the side of the building. You vomited afterwards. Any recollection of that?”
“Yeah. Tasted better going down.” I tried to smile at my own humor, but couldn’t because of the pain.
“Can you tell me your name and where you’re at? Anything at all that you remember?”
I glanced around the room and saw Emily there with her friends, Nick the bartender, Julie the waitress and several others I didn’t know. At least I remembered their names. I closed my eyes to focus more, trying to recall. I knew who I was and where I was at, but I didn’t seem to recollect exactly what happened.
“My name is Jarvis Mann,” I answered. “I’m at Boone’s Tavern. I don’t quite remember all that transpired. I got clocked in the head with something, or by someone. That part is still a little unclear. I think I was outside and, bang, I saw stars.”
She took a small flashlight and checked my eyes. “OK, that is good and your pupils look normal,” she stated. “At least you remember the important stuff. You probably have a mild concussion. We ought to take you to the ER so they can check you out further.”
