Return of the Nomad

by Beatrix Banner

  “He got her hooked, goddamn him! Hooked on the heroin, and had her pay him for the privilege! The bastard! Never mind the fact that he was crashing in her apartment rent free.”

  Archie sighed. “That’s real tough, Jimmy. What happened?” He glanced at me, like he was trying to send me his thoughts. “What happened to him? Did she get rid of him, or what?”

  “Not in time. No, not before she lost the baby.”

  Now that took me for a spin. “Wait, she was pregnant?”

  Jimmy nodded, slowly, living it over again in his mind, not for the first time, I figured. “She was pregnant. Six months or so.”

  I heard my voice like somebody else was using it. Disembodied. Quiet. “What happened?”

  Jimmy sucked in a deep breath. He made a gesture of helplessness, then dropped his hand in his lap. Tears welled in his eyes. “She was hooked on heroin. The baby died, man. The baby died. She was six months.”

  The room was quiet. How do you take that in? How could I take that in? This was not the Pam I knew, the Pam I grew up with. What Jimmy was telling us was so far removed from the reality I had grown up with, the person I had grown up with, that I felt like I’d stepped into a parallel universe.

  Archie’s voice snapped me back. “Where is Carter now? Do you know? We’re gonna need to talk to him.”

  “As far as I know, he lives out by the industrial estates. East side of town. Piece of shit building for a piece of shit human. I can take you out there if you want me to.”

  “That’s okay, man, I don’t wanna put you through that. Just give me the address and we’ll find it. You know if he’s still selling?”

  “Yeah, I think so. That’s what I hear. Apparently he was graduating to the hard stuff when it all went down, so I can’t imagine much has changed. He was popular, too, so I’d figure he’s not coming backwards to go forwards.”

  “Okay.” Archie sighed. “I’m going to leave it there for now, but I may need to come back to you. That gonna be okay?”

  I watched Jimmy collect himself. He grew slightly, squared his shoulders and emotions, clenched his jaw. His voice was gruff when he spoke. “Course you can, son. Anything you need, any time you need it. Anything I can do to help. You just find this bastard who did this to my little girl.” He paused for a second and began to crumble again. “I can’t believe this is happening. It can’t be real...”

  Archie regarded him for a beat.

  “I know, Jimmy. If you need anything, help, someone to talk to, a shoulder to lean on. I’ve got two, and so does she.” Archie gestured over towards me. He moved to Jimmy, sat beside him and put his arm around his shoulder. “Just call, okay? We’re here for you, pal. You got somebody you want me to call right now?”

  Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, I’ll call Cindy. Maybe she’ll come over.”

  I joined them, hunkered down and held his hand. I wanted to say something that would mean something to him in the state he was in. I’m not sure how I did.

  “We’ll find this fucker,” I promised.

  He met my eye and held it. “I know you will,” he replied. “I know you will.”

  We stepped out into the rain, hunched down into our jackets, and loped through the puddles to the dry safety of the car. The lights bleeped, we clambered in and slammed the doors behind us. Then we sat for a long moment, listening to the rain drum on the roof of the car, and watching it distort reality through the windshield, breaking it into a million shiny fragments. I sighed and rubbed my face.

  “That is one conversation I never want to have again.”

  “Yeah? Welcome to the happy world of a homicide cop. It never gets any easier.”

  I shook my head. “How do you do it? How do you make room for other people’s pain?”

  Archie sighed and pressed the ignition. The car roared into life. “Everyone finds their own way. It’s just something you’ve got to do. It’s rough.”

  “That’s an understatement. I need a drink.”

  “You’re coming with me to find this Carter guy. I’ll buy you a drink later.”

  “And I will hold you to that.”

  He pulled out into the traffic. I leaned back in my seat and tuned in to the hissing sound of the tires on the drenched tarmac outside as we accelerated. In my mind, I attempted to make sense of the information I had gathered. What were the facts, the fixed points I could string a theory on?

  Pam was dead.

  She had been murdered.

  She’d been murdered in her own apartment, which had then been set up to look like it was ransacked.

  She had been pregnant.

  She had been a drug addict.

  She had lost the baby at six months.

  How had it all gone so wrong for her? How had I not known about any of this? Maybe it was because I didn’t know how to make room for other people’s pain. I isolate myself, never stay anywhere long enough to grow roots, avoid commitment like it’ll kill me. Why create new memories when I still relive the old ones every time I close my eyes?

  Archie seems to understand, at least.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re awful quiet. I’d ask if you were okay, but I think you’d hit me.”

  “You’d be right about that, bud.”

  “What are you thinking on?”

  “Everything.” I sighed. “What the hell happened to her? What went down in that apartment?”

  “The crime scene team should be able to answer that for us in a couple days. Until then, we’ve got a deadbeat to interrogate.”

  I laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “East side of the industrial estate. Man, who lives on an industrial estate?”

  “I heard Martha Stewart say she had a darling little one bedroom out in Industry. It’s amazing what you can turn out with a little creativity.”

  I snorted. It was good to snort. “The things that woman can do.”

  We drove in silence through the rain for about a half hour, the sound of the tires on wet tarmac lulling us into the depths of our own thoughts. Eventually, Archie began to slow, peering out the window. “This is about where Jimmy said it’d be...” He pulled over and killed the engine. “You ready?”

  “You’re damn right I’m ready,” I growled.

  We got out and Archie locked the car. The rain had eased to a heavy drizzle and we headed across the wet blacktop to a one story building on the far side of the road. More than a house, it looked like a miniature, dilapidated warehouse. The paint was an ugly, mud-stained gray, peeling off the red bricks underneath. The windows looked like they hadn’t been washed since it was built, and the sad attempt at a front yard was overgrown with weeds.

  While Archie reached for his badge, I pulled up my collar against the spitting rain and hammered on the front door. “Los Angeles Police, open up!”

  Archie clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Will you shut up? You can’t say that.”

  I blinked at him.

  Movement inside made us both look. I heard the distinct sound of a window opening from the back of the building. Before Archie could pull his piece, I had vaulted the porch and sprinted around the corner. There I saw the ugly-ass head and shoulders of Carter Pieceofshit squirming and wriggling himself through a narrow window.

  “Need some help there, pal?”

  I grabbed him by the collar and yanked down hard, pulling him through the window and hurling him hard on the ground at my feet. He huffed out a lungful of air as he landed and started to wheeze painfully, curling into the fetal position. I kicked his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. Then I leveled the heel of my boot at his throat.

  “Carter Shithead, I presume?” I said, and treated him to my best menacing stare.

  Archie appeared, skidding around the corner, and ran towards us with his .38 in one hand and his badge in the other. “Los Angeles Police, freeze!”

  “You’re a little late to the party there, pal. He knows that. I’m pretty sure that’s why he was on his way out the window.”

  “Y
ou wanna take your boot off my throat?” Carter croaked from beneath my Doc.

  “Not particularly,” I replied, but a glare from Archie had me rolling my eyes and removing my boot. Carter pulled himself into a half-sitting position against the side of the house, rubbing his windpipe, and threw me a resentful glare. I smiled sweetly back at him as Archie grabbed him under his arm and dragged him to his feet.

  “Come on, tough guy, let’s get inside out of the rain and have a little chat, shall we? Or would you prefer I throw some handcuffs on ya and take you on down to the station instead?”

  “Inside is fine.”

  Archie shoved him down the narrow alley and around the corner to the front porch. Carter unlocked the door and we pushed inside, stamping our feet and wiping the rain from our eyes.

  I wasn’t surprised to find it was even more of a dive on the inside than it was out. The plaster on the walls was cracked, the paint, which might once have had some color, was now just an ugly shade of gray—but not the same shade as the front. What light there was came from a bare bulb hanging from a wire in the ceiling, and threadbare was what the carpet had been, about ten years ago.

  We followed him through to what he obviously thought of as his living room. There was a couch that had collapsed back when Noah was contemplating the Ark, a couple of chairs with the stuffing coming out, and a TV he’d probably picked up at a looting. He dropped into one of the chairs by a small window, where the raindrops were making streaks in the filth. We watched him pull a pack of Luckies from his pocket and light up a smoke.

  “So what do you want, anyways?” he asked, releasing smoke from his nose and glaring at us from across the room.

  Archie sat down on the arm of the collapsing couch opposite and regarded him for a second. I stood in the doorway and leaned on the jamb.

  “Tell us about Pamela Guss,” Archie said.

  He shook his head and made a face. “I have no idea who that is, bro.”

  I felt hot anger welling in my belly again.

  Archie snarled, “Bullshit. Tell us about Pamela Guss.”

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know who that bitch is, asshole.”

  Archie sighed, stood and reached for his cuffs. “Okay! I guess we’ll have to do this down at the station. Carter Davidson, I am arresting you for the attempted...”

  Carter was waving his hands in the air, “Woah! Woah! Take it easy! Okay, okay, okay. Fine. I remember her.”

  Archie beamed at me. “Fantastic! See that? What adrenaline can do for the memory?”

  I tried not to laugh. It wasn’t easy.

  He sat back down again. “Okay, let’s start again. Tell me about Pamela Guss.”

  “We used to go out. You know, she was my lady.”

  “You went out. She was your lady. Okay, so tell me something I don’t know, like how long ago?”

  Carter sighed. “How long ago? Man, I dunno, like, a while ago?”

  “A while ago?” Archie looked at me. “A while ago.” He repeated it a few times, rolling the words around in his mouth like he was tasting a shitty wine. “A while ago. You know, that is so nice and specific, I think we’re probably done here. Ana, don’t you think?”

  I pushed myself off the wall and slowly walked over to Carter. I smiled at him and cracked my knuckles when I was about a foot or two in front of him. “A while ago?” I asked him, still smiling. I let the moment linger, then looked over at Archie and cocked my head. “Archie, I’m kind of in the mood for coffee. You want a coffee? Carter, coffee?”

  Archie cottoned on and smiled back, nodding slowly. “You know what, a coffee sounds really good, actually.”

  “Excellent! I thought so, too,” I replied. “Would you mind going to grab us some, Archie? I can stay here with Carter, you know, start to really get to know him...”

  “Oh, not at all, I’d be happy to,” Archie replied as he stood from his spot on the couch.

  “Okay, perfect. Why don’t you go down the road and grab us all some coffee, how does that sound to you, Carter? A nice, hot cup of coffee?”

  Carter’s eyes had begun to dart wildly back and forth between the two of us. He was starting to panic and jumped up from his seat. He scurried over to Archie and crouched down by his feet. “What, no, you can’t leave, man. Hey, you can’t leave her here with me, she can’t do this, you can’t do this, this ain’t legal! You got a, a uh, a duty of care! Listen, it was like, like, two years ago, man, it was two years ago, please don’t leave me here with her, okay? She’s clearly crazy.”

  I watched Archie fight his urge to smirk as he held eye contact with Carter. “I’m not sure why you’re feeling so antsy, pal. We’re offering you free coffee and a chance to relax while you talk to us. I think I’ll go grab us some coffee.”

  I walked up behind Carter and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. He jumped and attempted to spin around, but I pushed down and held him in place. His neck cricked painfully and he winced.

  He turned to look up at me with a resentful face that was full of scorn. “God, you’re aggressive!”

  I raised an eyebrow that told him to get the fuck over himself and gestured to his chair. “Back you go.”

  I released his shoulder and he did as he was told. He flopped down and sighed again. He moved his gaze to look over at Archie. “So, okay, we were together two years ago, and—” His eyebrows squeezed together and an incredulous, confused look grew across his face. “Wait, why you askin’ me all these questions about Pam for? What’s the deal?”

  I leveled my finger at him like a gun. “Pam’s dead, you son of a bitch. You’re gonna tell us everything you know.”

  Carter recoiled. He stared at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw, then suddenly launched into a stream of babble. “Dead? What the hell, man! That ain’t got nothin’ to do with me! I ain’t seen her since we split! Like, like a year ago!” He pointed at me. “I’m tellin’ you, she was a pain in my ass, man! I was happy to get out that fuckin’ door, I ain’t gonna get mixed up in that shit again. You know what I’m sayin’?”

  I felt a hot pellet of rage burning in my belly. I spoke through gritted teeth. “Well, aren’t you just a peach? Was that a decision you made before or after you got her pregnant?”

  Carter leapt up from the chair and pointed a trembling finger at me again. He was shaking his head, licking his lips. “It ain’t like that! For all I know, that kid wasn’t even mine. Who the fuck knows whose it was, man. Maybe it was that punk ass dealer she was messin’ around with!”

  Archie’s eyes lit up. “Punk-ass dealer? Who’s he? Weren’t you her dealer?”

  “Nah, man! Like, okay. Yeah. At first, and occasionally I’d help her out if she was low or something, you know.” A sickly ingratiating smile split his face. “Being a decent guy and all, but she had other dudes going all over town! She’d hit up this guy for one thing, me for another, who knows how many other poor saps she was tappin’ for goods? I tell you, though, she wasn’t my problem anymore, bro.”

  Archie and I shared a look. How much of this was true? But he was on to Carter now, verbally stalking him like a big cat does a wounded baby gazelle. “And did you decide that before or after she miscarried?”

  Carter went quiet. I could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing grew shallow and I saw beads of sweat pop out on his brow. I watched his eyes dart to the exit points and I placed my hand on his shoulder again and gently guided him back to his chair. I can be comforting like that.

  He stared up at me, then at Archie. “That wasn’t my fault, bro, she, she was doing the drugs and—”

  “Oh, she was doing the drugs! You hear that, Archie? She was doing the drugs. That’s why she miscarried! Of course! We were stupid not to get that. Me? I thought some asshole son of a bitch got her hooked and it was that that killed the baby!”

  “Ana.” Archie gave me a look. I rolled my eyes.

  Carter pointed at me. “Keep her on a fuckin’ leash, man.”

  Archie smiled on t
he wrong side of his face, where it doesn’t look like a smile. “You better pray I do. Now tell me what happened and cut the bullshit.”

  “Listen, I’m tellin’ ya, she was carryin’ on, going ’round with a bunch of different dudes. There was this dealer, scary guy. He’s into some dark shit...”

  I cut him off. “What do you mean, dark? Dark like how?”

  “Dark like shady, dark like dangerous, dark like I wasn’t gonna stick around to find out, man. That dude kills people, with his hands.”

  “Great, I really feel like I get it now.”

  Archie cut in. “Okay, let’s stay on track, here. Does Mr. Shady and Dangerous have a name?”

  Carter shrugged. “Fuck if I know. There was also some teacher she went to, some karate asshole or whatever. He was a real piece of work too. She sure could pick ’em.” He laughed.

  I snarled with malice. “Yeah, she had real asshole radar.”

  “A-a-anyway,” he stuttered. His eyes watched me out of his periphery. “Yeah, these were some weird guys and they didn’t have shit-all to do with me.”

  “So what made this karate teacher a piece of work? Was he an enforcer or what?”

  “Nah, like just the opposite. He puts it out that he’s some kind of fuckin’ sensei hero. Like fuckin’ Kung Fu, you know? Justice and honor and all that bull, but you could tell right away there was a nasty side to the guy.”

  “So you met them?” I asked.

  “Nah, nah, this is all stuff I heard, you know? People talk, right? Word on the street.” He nodded as though he was reassuring himself that he sounded legit.

  Archie sighed. “Okay, c’mon, Carter, names. I want names.” He sounded weary, like he was losing his patience. He could probably smell the bullshit. It was giving me a headache, it was so pungent.

  “I ain’t got names, cop. All I know is, these are some of the assholes who she was steppin’ out on me with.” He was getting worked up, his eyes were seething at the injustice of it all. He beat his chest. “We were together! But her? She was all over the place, man, it was not my fault! You wanna point the finger, you wanna pin this on somebody, y’all need to look at that dealer, right? He’s some messed up dude. She stopped buying from him!”