Random Victim

by Michael A. Black

  “Not too bad,” Leal said. “You’ll be all right. I locked your purse in the trunk, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “God, she was so strong. I couldn’t believe it. It all happened so fast.”

  “Well, don’t feel bad,” Leal said. “She wasn’t a ‘she’ at all. She was a ‘he.’ ”

  He saw her forehead wrinkle.

  “Woman on the top, man on the bottom.”

  “Oh, my God,” said Hart.

  He saw a tear roll down her cheek. “It’s okay, Ollie. Everything’s going to be fine.” He patted her head with his left hand and reached for the seam in the curtain with his right. Leal had been in emergency rooms enough times to know they always give you a number and have you wait, no matter where you were. But that’s not going to happen in this case, he thought.

  “Nurse, I want a doctor over here now,” he said, holding up his badge. “We’ve got an injured police officer.”

  The nurse looked at him, nodded, and walked away from the cubicle area where she’d been standing. Several other people in the cubicle glared at him, but Leal just stared them down.

  Presently a young-looking guy with glasses and reddish hair walked up. The stitching above his left pocket said Dr. Forrester.

  He stepped inside the curtain and grabbed the chart.

  “Good evening,” he said, slipping on some rubber gloves and unwinding the gauze on Hart’s arm a bit. “How are you feeling, miss?”

  “It’s Officer,” Leal said.

  The doctor looked at Leal. “And you are?”

  “Her partner.”

  A nurse came through the curtain carrying a tray of instruments, a hypodermic syringe, and more rubber gloves.

  “Would you mind waiting outside, sir?” she said.

  Leal looked at Hart, who nodded and smiled. She squeezed his hand as he left.

  “So how’s Hart?” Ryan asked on the other end.

  Leal, who was standing amid a group of hospital employees taking a smoke break outside the emergency room doors, sighed into the cell phone.

  “They had some plastic surgeon who was on call come in to stitch her up,” he said. Leal looked down at his jacket and shirt, both of which were covered with dark crimson stains. God, she lost a lot of blood, he thought. “They don’t think the scarring will be too bad. They’re gonna keep her the rest of the night and I’ll take her home tomorrow.”

  “Aha,” Ryan said. “I knew it. You’re gonna get her to switch back to men, right?”

  “Will you knock it off?” Leal said. “You’re gonna talk to Brice, right?”

  “Of course. Say, Frank,” Ryan’s voice sounded conspiratorial. “How does this all connect to the Walker case?”

  “Bobbi, the pervert, was wanted on a warrant,” Leal said. “That’s probably why he fought so hard. I won’t know much until I can lean on him a little tomorrow, but he was supposed to be one of Walker’s associates.”

  “Okay,” Ryan said. “I’ll contact the brass in the morning and give ’em a heads-up. Then I’ll come by and help you with the interview.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Leal said. “Me and Bobbi don’t exactly have a good rapport.”

  Bobbi slouched forward, elbows on his knees, smoking a cigarette. He still had on his leather blouse and miniskirt, but was without his wig, and the crew cut, coupled with the mascara, gave him a faintly reptilian cast. The bruise under his left eye was beginning to turn purple. He flicked the ash into the empty paper cup in front of him on the sparse wooden table. No other furniture was in the interview room except for the chairs in which the three of the four sat. Leal paced back and forth by the door.

  “So we talking deal, Bobbi?” Steve Megally asked. He was one of the honchos from the State’s Attorney’s office who had come down personally to handle the interview after Sheriff O’Hara had called. “No goddamn pervert slices up one of my officers, much less a female officer, and gets away with it,” he’d raved. That’s why they’d sent a seasoned pro like Megally, to discuss all the aspects of the case before the interview began.

  “Deal?” Leal said. “You got to be kidding.” His voice was filled with rising intensity.

  “Frank, take it easy,” Ryan said, standing up as Leal began moving toward Bobbi from across the room.

  Leal halted but continued his tirade.

  “That fucking little bastard tried to kill my partner and me, and you’re talking a fucking deal? No way.”

  “Look, Frank,” Ryan said. “I know you’re upset, but—”

  “Upset? I’ll show you fucking upset,” Leal said, and he lurched forward again as Megally jumped up and helped Ryan hold Leal back. “C’mere, you little piece of shit.”

  “Keep him away from me,” Bobbi said. “I’ve got rights, you know.”

  “I’ll give you some rights,” Leal yelled. His face looked flushed as the other two men struggled to restrain him.

  “Easy, big guy,” Ryan yelled.

  “Get him out of here, Ryan,” Megally said. “That’s an order.”

  Leal seemed to deflate a bit, and Ryan walked him to the door.

  Leal opened it, poised to leave, but pointed back at Bobbi and said, “I’ll find you later, you little fuck.”

  Bobbi stared at Leal for a moment, and then looked downward. Ryan pushed Leal all the way out and closed the door behind him. He turned to Bobbi, taking out his cigarettes.

  “To put it mildly,” he said, shaking the pack and holding it toward Megally, who shook his head, and Bobbi, who grabbed one and lit it from the one still smoldering in the ashtray, “you have pissed a lot of people off, to a high degree of pisstasity.”

  He watched as Bobbi began to hot-box the cigarette.

  “Look at it logically, Bobbi,” he continued. “Attempted murder of a cop, and a female cop no less. No judge in his right mind is gonna let you off with anything less than the maximum.” He paused and took a drag on his own square. “This is, after all, an election year.”

  “My office would concur,” Megally said.

  “So we’re talking major time here, Bobbi,” Ryan said. “Hard time. No good time. In Stateville. For a white boy with big titties and a pretty face, that could be an eternity.” He watched Bobbi staring at the tabletop, the smoke trailing out of his dainty nostrils. “You’ll be getting butt-fucked by every nigger and Puerto Rican in the joint. You’ll be kept property, just something to be passed around.”

  “So what kind of deal we talking?” Bobbi asked.

  Ryan raised his eyebrows and looked at Megally.

  “You give us the straight scoop on this Walker guy,” Megally said, “and we’ll drop the attempt murder and go with one count of agg batt.”

  “Which translates to what?” Bobbi asked.

  “A substantial reduction,” Megally said. He looked to Ryan.

  “Don’t try to fucking jack me off,” Bobbi said.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ryan said. He nodded fractionally to Megally.

  “All right, here’s our final offer,” he said. “As good as it gets. You can plead to felony probation on the agg batt.”

  Bobbi stared at him. “I can walk with felony paper?”

  Megally frowned and nodded. “But what you’ll have to trade has got to be the real goods.”

  “It is,” Bobbi said, and bit his upper lip. “Okay, I’ll do it. But I want it in writing.”

  “How about we call in a stenographer?” Megally asked, smiling up at Ryan.

  Approximately two and a half hours later, Leal woke up to see Ryan and Megally standing by the coffee machine, laughing and slapping each other on their backs. Leal stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness of having fallen asleep sitting in a straight-backed chair. He walked over to them.

  “So how’d it go?” he asked.

  “Great,” Ryan said, rubbing his palms together and grinning broadly. “The he-she-it gave us Marti
n Walker on a silver platter. The fucker’s a kink. Likes to have sex with boys, and lately has been preferring them younger and younger.”

  “That’s what Bobbi’s been supplying,” Megally said. “Mostly runaways.”

  “And in return,” Ryan said, “Old Marty’s been giving Bobbi his blow supply.”

  He dropped some coins in the coffee machine and held his hand out to Leal. “Go ahead, Frank. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Leal smirked and pressed the button marked black.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “No, he’s right,” Megally said. “If I ever need a bad guy again, I know who to call. You even had me shaking.”

  Leal removed the cup from under the spout and brought it to his lips.

  “Intimidation is my business,” he said, before taking a cautious sip.

  “And the beauty of it is,” Megally said, “we’ll keep him remanded until he pleads, at which time we’ll also violate his probation for the pandering charge and send him bye-bye to Joliet for two to four.” He grinned and pressed the buttons for cream and sugar.

  Leal knew that two to four for Bobbi meant he’d probably be out in a year and a half, but a year and a half in Stateville, for someone with his silicon-acquired attributes, would be time in pure hell. If he survived at all.

  “Well,” Megally said, “I’m going to finish up my file.” He shook hands with Ryan and Leal. “Nice working with you two.”

  After Megally had left, Ryan slapped Leal on the back with a familiarity that made Leal tighten.

  “We did it, buddy,” Ryan said. “I never in my wildest dreams, thought we would, but we are this close,” he held up his thumb and forefinger and narrowed the gap to about a centimeter, “to clearing the Miriam Walker murder case.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Leal said.

  But he knew he still had to break the news of Bobbi’s deal to Hart.

  Leal was heading to the hospital elevators when he spotted Rory Chalma, head down, walking slowly toward him. After debating for a split second whether or not to say something, Chalma looked up and stopped.

  “Oh, Frank,” he said. “Isn’t this terrible?”

  “How’s she doing?”

  Chalma swallowed hard and Leal wondered if the man was holding back tears.

  “She’s a trooper,” he said. “I got the feeling that she was just putting on a happy face, though. She said you were coming to take her home.”

  Leal wondered if that was what had Chalma so upset. Maybe he and Ollie did have something more besides the trainer/protégée relationship.

  “Yeah,” Leal said. He was about to say that he’d brought her some new undies and clothes, since hers had been taken as evidence, but thought better of it. No sense pissing this big guy off, if they are seeing each other, he thought, even though Leal had asked the nurse to get Hart’s sizes the night before. Him going through her stuff seemed too much like another violation.

  “And the doctor was saying no sun,” Chalma was saying. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with the contest coming up. I mean, looking bronzed is half of looking buffed.”

  Leal nodded as though he’d been following Chalma’s line of conversation.

  “They say anything about the scarring?” Leal asked.

  “Oh, thank God you saw to it that she got proper treatment last night,” Chalma said, laying a hand on Leal’s forearm. “She said the doctor that stitched her up was a plastic surgeon specialist.”

  Leal nodded again.

  “He said her fair skin usually doesn’t scar too badly,” Chalma said. He brought his hand to his face, and suddenly looked like he was on the verge of breaking down completely. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Ollie.”

  Leal felt almost like patting the man on the shoulder or something, but Chalma mumbled something about having to leave and hurried off. Leal decided to make a quick detour to the hospital gift shop for a minimal bouquet. If Hart was depressed, maybe flowers would cheer her up.

  He knocked lightly on the door frame before stepping into her room. She was in the bed closest to the door with the back angled up so she could watch the small TV. Her blond hair was spread over the pillow, and she had a large gauze bandage around her left arm from the wrist to the elbow. A greenish-blue hospital gown and the bedsheets covered the rest of her, but the taut lines of her superb figure were easily discernible.

  That Rory’s a lucky guy, thought Leal.

  Hart looked over and smiled as he came in.

  “How you doing, kid?” Leal asked, holding the bouquet behind his back and the bag with the underwear and clothes out in front. “I brought you some clean clothes.”

  “Oh, thanks, Sarge, but Rory already brought me some things. He just left. I called him after I realized they took my underwear.”

  “Yeah, I bumped into him downstairs,” Leal said, thinking, Rory knows her sizes, huh? “Anyway, I had the nurse check your sizes last night and write them down. I didn’t look.”

  “Like you’d really want to, huh? I’ll bet that stuff was terrible. They said I bled like a stuffed pig.”

  “You,” Leal said, bringing the flowers out from behind his back, “could never be a pig.”

  “Oh, thank you, they’re so pretty,” she said, grabbing the flowers and smelling the fragrance. She winced slightly as she tried to move her left arm. “Still a little sore. Can you put them in the water pitcher? They told me I could take that.”

  “Sure,” Leal said. “You ready to leave?”

  “Am I ever. I just have to wait for the doctor to release me. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “How come Rory didn’t wait?” Leal asked, sticking the bouquet into the plastic pitcher. “He got pretty emotional downstairs.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, I sensed he really cares about you.”

  “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” Leal said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this doesn’t cause him to pop the question.”

  “What? Rory?” she said, smiling. “I don’t think so.”

  “Trust me,” Leal said. “I’ve got a feeling about these things. It’s a knack.”

  “Your knack’s a bit off in this case.”

  “I don’t think so,” Leal teased. “I’m seldom wrong about reading people.”

  “You are in this case,” she said. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper, “He’s gay. And he has a partner.”

  “Him? With those arms? I was worried he’d break me in half downstairs if he found out I was bringing you underwear.”

  “I’m not sure he would have approved,” she said. “But for purely professional reasons. He thinks you and I are having an affair, and that it’s messing up my training. It was all I could do to convince him you weren’t interested in getting into my pants.”

  Leal felt his mouth drop open and he couldn’t think of anything to say. The thoughts of what it might be like “getting into her pants” flashed through his mind, and so did a picture of Rory. He tried to blank out both images. Fortunately the doctor saved him from having to speak, and he went down the hall to the nurse’s station for a cup of coffee. When he came back, the doctor was just leaving.

  “Are you a relative?” the doctor asked, pausing.

  “Her partner.”

  The other man nodded. “Well, she’s getting dressed now. See to it that she rests for a day or two. I don’t want those stitches to get popped loose.”

  Leal said he would, and knocked on the door again. Hart pulled open the curtain and told him she was going to need one of the female nurses to help her get dressed.

  “Okay, I’ll get one,” Leal said. He paused. “So what did the doc say?”

  “That I’ll have to stay out of the sun for at least a year, and hold off on my workouts until the cuts heal,” she said. “But since I’m in such great shape, it shouldn’t take too long.”

  “That’s good, right?”

 
He saw her bite her lower lip.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m worried about the scars,” she said. A couple of tears rolled down her face and she quickly wiped them away.

  “Can I have a hug?”

  “Hey, sure,” he said, moving forward because it seemed like the natural thing to do, but it felt like he was holding a greyhound. She was all solid muscle on top of muscle, and suddenly his hands were moving over the bare skin of her back. He immediately stopped to move away, but didn’t. She made no move, either. “You’re pretty fair-skinned, and everybody knows that fair-skinned people don’t scar much.” He patted her back lightly and she seemed to relax a bit. As they parted he suddenly dreaded having to tell her about Bobbi’s deal on the way home. How’s she gonna react to that? “Don’t worry, you’ll still be gorgeous.”

  “Oh, Sarge, you’re such a shmoozer.”

  “I think it’s about time you started calling me Frank,” he said. We’ll see about the other on the ride home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Games People Play

  The sunlight streamed in through the windows of Brice’s office as he leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his oily hair.

  “Okay, we went over everything with the state’s attorney this morning,” he said. “Here’s our game plan.”

  Leal, Ryan, and Smith leaned forward attentively.

  “Nobody’s seen Martin Walker for two days. He ain’t been at work, and he’s not answering his phone at home. I got a surveillance team on both places, the house and the River North apartment he was renting. In addition, his picture’s on the Chicago Daily Bulletin under a pick-up order, and we got a type-three message in LEADS.”

  Ryan took out his pack of cigarettes and held them up.

  “You mind, boss?”

  Brice waved his hand nonchalantly, and patted his own pocket for a cigar. He bit off the end and spat it into the wastebasket. Leaning forward, he held the end of the cigar into the flame of Ryan’s lighter and puffed a few times before continuing.

  “This morning we get those warrants all squared away,” he said. “After we get ’em set, we hit the apartment first, then his house, then the office. We’re going step by step on this one building our case. You see anything suspicious in either location, anything relating to the Miriam Walker homicide, we’re gonna have evidence technicians with us to process.” He blew out a cloud of smoke.