by R Weir
Chapter 31
I awoke, sensing a group of people around me. I heard little comments like “is he drunk” and “I saw someone hit him.” All of this did me no good, as I finally was able to get on my feet. Once standing I felt for the gun, but it was gone. Searching around it was nowhere to be found.
“You OK, mister?” asked a man who was part of the group looking at me.
“I’m a private detective,” I announced. “Did anyone find a gun on the ground? It skidded away when he kicked me.”
“I think he grabbed it,” replied another man wearing a softball uniform. “Got in his car and drove off.”
“Crap,” I said.
“Anyone know how long I was out?”
“Around ten minutes. Some of us wondered if you were dead.”
“Not hardly!” I answered.
I got my bearings finding the Mustang, not remembering at first where it was. Mark had the gun, which wasn’t good, as I knew what he could do with it. Once in the car I drove out quickly, an ambulance pulling in lights a-flashing as someone had dialed 911. Calling Emily on her cell got no response. I looked at the time and it was nearly 5PM. She said she’d be at Dave and Busters for the game. I wondered if she had told Mark the same thing. Maybe that was what she’d wanted all along, to get the two of us together, like she’d done with Rickie, Jim and I. “Out of the picture completely” she had said to me about Mark. Spinning my wheels, I headed for the interstate in hopes of arriving before it was too late.
Dave and Busters was on the southwest side of I-25 and Colorado Blvd, and I had a ways to go to get there. It was a popular family restaurant, bar and gaming room. I had dined there a few times and always found it busy and loud. The food was decent, though nothing to get worked up about. They had burgers, sandwiches, steaks, ribs and pasta. The menu wasn’t the main draw; it was the atmosphere. For a Sunday Night Football game the joint would be crowded and probably so loud you couldn’t even hear yourself think, let alone talk. Wall to wall bodies, not an ideal place to have an angry man with a gun prowling for his ex-wife. The Smith and Wesson .38 snub-nose revolver held only five rounds. Those bullets could kill five men, women or children and that was five too many. I felt guilty about letting him get the gun from me. Too many people were getting the drop on me lately. I needed to up my game.
It was around eleven miles by highway, and I jumped on I-225 and drove as fast as I legally thought I could get away with, topping 70 where the posted limit was 65. I didn’t need to be pulled over for speeding to stop me from getting there. I rounded onto I-25, heading north. The nationally televised contest was being played in town at Sports Authority Field. The game traffic wasn’t horrible, but heavy enough to slow me down in spots. I hit Colorado Blvd exit in about fifteen minutes, with another five minutes to get through all the lights at this car- packed intersection and find a parking spot in the mostly full lot of the restaurant and large movie theater complex that shared the corner.
I reached into the glove box and pulled out my other gun. It sat locked away, in case of emergency. It was a Beretta PX4 Storm 9MM handgun, a good size for me, with a little more kick than the .38, but not so large it couldn’t be concealed. I made sure the safety was on and tucked it in the back, belt covered by the shirt tail. I pulled the hat down tight over my head to try and conceal my face. Being stealthy was important in finding Mark, as I didn’t want him to spot me coming before I could react, if he was here. There were too many cars in the lot to tell for certain and his style of vehicle was like every other one on the road today.
Once inside I was struck with a wall of sights, sounds and smells. Orange Bronco shirts and hats filled the space as people mulled around, joyous fans coming together to root for the hometown team. The greeters at the door asked me what I was there for, and I told them I was meeting a group in the restaurant. They let me pass on through and I started looking around, my eyes searching for familiar faces amongst the wave of humanity that enveloped the giant space. When entering there were pool tables to the left, with dining area with booths and tables to the right, while even further to the right a huge bar. Going straight back led you to the large game room filled with high-tech digital age gaming. Big screen TV’s were everywhere, each one showing the same pregame show for the primetime battle. Moving through the dining area first, I slowly went from table to table. No faces looked familiar until I hit the bar, where I saw Karen, Emily’s female friend I had seen in Boone’s. I walked up to her and said “hi.” At first she didn’t recognize me, but soon remembered. She had on a bright orange Champ Bailey number 24 jersey that fit tightly to her proportioned chest, tight-fitting jeans with fashionably designed tears on the thighs revealing tanned skin, and sandals on her feet. A dark-colored drink in her hand wasn’t her first, as she appeared well lubricated, even though the game hadn’t even started yet. We had to yell to hear each other the noise in the room deafening.
“Hi,” she stated, somewhat glassy eyed. “You’re Jarvis, aren’t you?” She reached out her free hand to shake mine. It was soft and warm, and she held mine for what seemed like an eternity, not wanting to let go.
“Yes, how are you doing?” I answered once my hand was free. “I’m looking for Emily. Is she here yet?”
“I think she went to the bathroom. She should be back soon. She’s talked so much about you and how you’ve helped her.” She rested her palm on my arm, pulling in closely to me, her warm breath speaking into my ear. “And I mean she has told me everything you did with and to her, and I’m jealous she got to you first. Some of those moves she used on you she learned from watching me. Maybe someday you’ll want to experience them from the master!”
She was pretty, the attention was flattering and at a different time might be worth exploring further, but I wasn’t here for that now. “Which way are the bathrooms?”
“Over there,” she pointed. “Right before you enter the game room. Hurry on back so we can talk. I’d like to get to know you better. I will explain in graphic detail a few tricks I haven’t taught her yet, and we could get together to experiment with sometime!”
Getting to know her better might be more than I could handle, though another time and place I might show her a thing or two that would rock her world. But having sex with a drunken, horny woman wasn’t on my bucket list tonight.
I excused myself and moved through the throng towards the bathrooms. As I got closer a lady ran out of the restroom yelling a man burst in and told her to get out. It was so noisy in there I was the only one that heard her. Moving to the closed door I pulled out my gun. Slowly I opened it, stepping through, and spotted them. Mark was standing, pointing the .38 at Emily as she stood at the wash basin, fear clenching her face. I had the Beretta at my side trying to hide it from him. He saw me and turned, moving to grab Emily and pulled her in front of him, the barrel pointed at her torso, her Bronco’s jersey torn at the neck from where he’d grabbed her. I stood in the doorway to block anyone else from coming in. I didn’t want to give him ammunition to use against me.
“Mark, let’s talk,” I said, still with the gun out of sight. It was at least quiet enough in here that we could hear each other.
“What is there to discuss,” he answered. “I’m going to end this tonight. I can’t take it anymore.”
“There is a better way,” I replied. “We can work this out. No one needs to get hurt.”
“I’m already hurt. She has hurt me for too long.”
Tears were running down Emily’s face. She appeared scared and was shaking some. She was trying to speak, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Reading her lips it looked like she was mouthing, “Mark, please don’t.”
A lady attempted to step into the bathroom but I stopped her.
“What the hell!’ she snarled.
“This guy has a gun,” I explained.
She peered around not believing me, but soon saw the weapon. “But I need to pee badly. How long is it going to be?”
“Hold it or
tinkle in the men’s room,” I answered. “I’m sure you’d be popular in there.”
She wiggled away in a huff, still not understanding completely what was happening. Alcohol obviously was clouding her judgment.
“Come on, Mark, talk with me,” I stated, turning my attention back to him. “Tell me what she’s been doing. Talking about it will help.”
Hesitating for a minute to gather his thoughts, he began to ramble on. If I hadn’t experienced all of it myself I’d have thought he was a lunatic.
“It’s those crazy games she is always playing. She is such a tease. I thought at one time she loved me, but I was only a pawn. Calling me saying she wanted to see me. Come down to Dave and Busters and we could share a drink to relive old times. I said no and she starts yelling to stay away because her private dick will put me in my place. She loves to fuck anyone that she can seduce and throw it in my face. She proceeded to tell me about fucking you on the phone yesterday, saying how good you were, telling me in graphic detail what you did. Like an idiot, I stood there and listened to every word.”
He stopped for a minute, looking her over, smelling her scent, feeling her soft hair against his cheek.
“She is so beautiful,” he continued. “No man can resist her. She knows we are weak and can make us do anything with her feminine skills. She despised me playing so much softball, spending time away from her and tried to get me to quit using every trick in the book. But I wouldn’t, and she hated that it was the one thing she couldn’t control and make me do. It was why those goons came to the park, screwing up my game. I’m sure she sent them or had her stepdad do it as one last effort to rip softball from me. But I won’t let her mess with the one thing that keeps me balanced.”
“I didn’t send those men to bother you.” Emily whimpered.
“Yes you did, like you did years ago. I bet you even asked Jarvis to take care of me too. Use that pretty little mouth to try and convince him to hurt or even kill me!”
Mark looked at me and I gave him a slight nod.
“Please, Mark, I beg of you,” she cried. “I can show you a real good time like we did when we were married. Surely you remember how wonderful we were together in bed.”
Her hand moved up to his cheek to caress it, but he pushed it away with the gun barrel.
“No,” he answered.
“I can give you money if you let me go. Brandon can make you rich. He’ll do anything I ask.”
“Just like all the other men in your life. They jump when you call. Did you screw him as well to get what you want?”
She started whimpering more and more. I could see real fear in her face, as she knew no amount of money or sexual persuasion was going to save her for the first time in her life. It had always been her weapon and now it finally was backfiring on her.
“This ends tonight,” he said loudly in her ear.
He started to move the gun up pointing it at Emily’s head. She started to call out some more, pleading with him not to kill her. But he seemed unfazed by it all. She had one last card to play, and it was me.
“Jarvis, I told you he was scary and would hurt me. You need to take him out so I can be free of him. I’ll pay you anything, do whatever you desire. You have the power in your hand to make him go away. I’ll be yours forever…”
Looking deep into her eyes, I saw the deception for the first time. Maybe I’d always seen it but couldn’t come to terms that Emily was the way she was. Sometimes you can read people, and other times you can’t. I was learning late in the game that I couldn’t read her, until now.
“Mark, I understand,” I said, while ignoring her request. “I’ve experienced what she is like too, seen it in the way she acts. A wild, sexy lover making every fantasy come true night after night. Then pitting the men in her life against each other as if it was a contest, to prove you’re worthy, the winner providing her animal arousal to prime her for the next encounter. Even lying about a woman you care for saying how she is using you. She’s manipulated me and two other men I know of. I agree it must stop, and I’m going to help you.” I revealed my gun, chambered a round and released the safety, pointing it straight at Emily. She looked at me in shock while Mark appeared confused as well. “I’m going to handle it for you so you don’t ruin your life.”
“Jarvis, what are you doing?” Emily cried out. “Please save me like you saved me from Jim. That’s what I’m paying you for!”
“The scene with Jim was a ruse,” I replied. “I fell for it, but I won’t fall for it again. As Mark says, this ends tonight!”
There was no rush decision; I knew exactly what I had to do. I was an accurate shot and the distance wasn’t far. I aimed for center mass moving my sight down and fired. I hit her in the right leg, trying for the fleshy part of her thigh. She screamed and crumbled down to the floor falling from Mark’s grip, the limp body being too hard for him to hold. He glanced down at her to see her yelling, blood coming out of the hole I made in her expensive jeans. He looked back up again at me and I had my gun aimed at him. You could read the shock on his face.
“Why,” he asked.
“To keep you from ruining your life,” I answered. “And to keep you from killing her. She doesn’t deserve to die, and you don’t either. You both need help and deserve to live a normal life, to live the life you want to live without hurting each other.”
“I can’t let her go,” he said, tears rolling down his cheek. He took the .38 and started raising it to his head.
“Mark, don’t!” I yelled.
I saw his hand start to flex and I fired. It was a precise shot into his right shoulder. If you’ve ever been shot the pain is sudden and immense, and it undoubtedly was a first for him. The shock alone can bring even the largest man down. Mark dropped the gun and clutched his shoulder before falling backwards onto the floor. I put the safety on the Beretta, slid the .38 away and raced over to help them both. I grabbed as many paper towels as I could to control their bleeding.
“Take these and hold them with pressure to the wound,” I told Mark. I moved to Emily and put pressure on her leg. She had a horrible expression of pain and scorn on her face. I was certain at this point she didn’t understand I’d saved her life. All she could think about was that I shot her.
“How could you!” she said through the sobs.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” was all I could say with a smile. It seemed funny to me at that moment, but I don’t think she agreed before passing out.
Chapter 32
I sat in Brandon Sparks office waiting for him to finish up with a meeting. I had been summoned by his assistant with the usual phone call and pushy tone, probably to explain what had all happened the day before. I was tempted to tell her to tell him to shove it, but I figured he’d send his two enforcers to come and get me, and I didn’t feel much like a confrontation after the day I’d had. They wouldn’t be too happy about me siccing the Aurora cop on them at Olympic Park.
After the shooting the Denver police grilled me, especially Detective Dan Cummings, who made it pretty clear he didn’t care for me. He threatened to pull my gun permit and detective license several times. I refused to give him the satisfaction of looking scared or worried, as I knew I didn’t do anything wrong, per se. This didn’t stop him from attempting to intimidate me. Detective Mallard did his best to try and calm Cummings down and defend me. I wasn’t sure if they were playing Good Cop, Bad Cop, or if he was trying to help me out. I gave them both the same information about ten times, never once changing the story, as there was nothing to change. I told them the truth about what happened and the thought process in shooting Emily and Mark. There hadn’t been time to wait to defuse the situation, so I had to act. My lawyer arrived and sprung me loose, the veiled threat of prosecution hanging over my head.
I don’t think either Emily or Mark was thrilled with me wounding them, especially Emily, but they would both live. She was unconscious when they wheeled her out on the stretcher, but the last look she ga
ve me before passing out said it all. Mark, on the other hand, was awake, still claiming to anyone who would listen he didn’t want to live. He kept saying over and over again he wished I’d just killed him to put him out of his misery. I tried to explain I wanted him to get the help he needed to pull through this, but he wasn’t hearing me. He deserved to live his life free of Emily’s grasp of him. I intended to push the man whose office I sat in to provide him that help.
Brandon walked into the room remaining completely silent when he sat in his chair. Today he was dressed in white shirt with bolo tie, black jeans and black cowboy boots nicely shined. He positioned himself and stared at me, seemingly weighing what to say. Or was he trying to look menacing in an effort to scare me? I stared back with my own menacing glare, though I was certain I wasn’t scaring him either. It stayed this way for a few minutes before he finally spoke.
“Okay, explain yourself?” he said while dragging out the OK for emphasis.
“What exactly do you want to know?” I answered.
“You shot my stepdaughter,” he growled. “I need answers why right now. You are walking on thin ice, which is not a good thing when dealing with me. You may fall through and not be found until spring.”
“I saved her life,” I replied. “If I hadn’t shot her, Mark would have. My bullet wound will heal. His would have killed her.”
“So why not shoot him instead?”
“Well, I did, just not until after I shot her. There was no clear line of fire at him without hitting her. It was obvious he wasn’t going to be talked out of putting a bullet in her head. So I wounded her and she crumbled to the ground. That gave me the chance to shoot him.”
“But you didn’t kill him?”
“No. It wasn’t the right thing to do. He was hurting bad by all that Emily had put him through, and it didn’t help you sent your enforcers to play head games with him while he was enjoying his one true love, softball. I only wounded him so he wouldn’t do damage to anyone else, including himself.”
